Burn Me Up
by Risou
Summary: Something has been whirring up inside the old man and at the same time, eating the kid alive from within. The mere fate in Fortuna doesn't part that way, or it maybe just didn't want to end like that. The past will resurface and this time, there is no escaping from it. V/D, D/N in later chapters.
1. Episode 01: Breaking the Habit

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry.**

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_Hi there._

_First time doing a Devil May Cry fiction. I'm trying to get some small details right so that things will fall in place nicely and familiarly. But of course, it wouldn't be like how the game ran so I'm trying my best to make it flow neatly. My vocabulary isn't fantastic so you may be stuck with some repetitive words._

_If you can't take man on man, then you must have missed my summary._

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**Burn Me Up**

**by Seraph Wes W.**

_**- For the courage to remember the pain, carry the sorrows, live with the lost, walk with the burn, be caught in the flame, take a leap of faith and fall all over again -**_

Damned afternoon.

The blazing heat from mid summer had its crazy temperature driving civilians of Capulet City up the wall as they hid indoors. Time was moving slow from the lack of business in Devil May Cry; no overnight pizzas, busted cans of beers or even the sound of the old jukebox moved. Time stood seemingly still in the dusty office.

That was until the double-leaf door at the entrance swung open violently.

A tall blonde walked in with a bag full of groceries over to the counter—a business desk, or rather the only apparent desk that seemed to still be in working order. She dropped them onto the desk, causing some dust to dissipate into the air. It had been so long… impervious to the minutes and days that had gone by since that day.

She climbed up the creaking stairway to the second floor, in hopes of finding her partner somewhere safe in the apartment. The faint scent of iron patrolled the air, staining almost every corner of the house. This scent only served to remind her of the same scenario that was about to happen soon as always. Approaching the room at the end of corridor, she entered the bedroom and open the bathroom door right next to it.

The same usual act of bullshit awaits.

The cold ceramic floor tiles in the bathroom were stained yellowish. They looked as if they had not been cleaned in a couple of years. Mild cracks crawled from the ceiling to the floor. The white basin had marks of disrepair with the corners displaying signs of aging. Even the mirror hanging above it had given way thus slightly tilting from its hinges. The woman stood by the door felt disgusted at the puddles of fluids across the floor.

A husky brute sat motionless, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his torn pale lips, the ashes trickling down onto the arm resting above his thigh. He slouched against the cracked wall next to the shower stall, a knee bent to rest the burnt arm while the other stretching straight towards the door. The tattered jeans plastered on his legs wore colors faded with sunburn, revealing his tanned line beneath it in the light.

If you take a closer look, there are some faint marks of mutilation on his naked torso such as scars, scratches and clean cuts. The ones that remain on the surface were of deeper bruises and wounds, seemingly fresh and still bleeding.

Perspiration trickled down his white hair along the corners of his moist face. His aqueous-silvery eyes hid behind the heavy swollen eye lids. Malnutrition seemed to have kicked in from the looks of his sunken cheeks. He lifted his head and looked up at the blonde who sighed with disappointment at him.

"What up, Trish?" he spoke lightly while removing the cigarette off his lips.

"Do you really have to do this?" she disgruntled at his irresponsible behavior as she folded her arms. "Does it really make you happy everyday going out late into the night picking fights then coming home the next morning smelling of booze and blood?"

He grinned slyly at her and retorted, "That's what's keeping me alive if you haven't realized."

At this point of his worthless retaliation, it became a known fact that she had just wasted her concerns for someone only capable of making talk with crap. In spite so, she knew she eventually wouldn't ignore this asshole no matter the trouble he brought. But just for this instance, she didn't want to bother a second more.

"If only Vergil were here-"

"Shut the hell up at that asshole's name!" he exploded with a middle finger sticking up at her face before she could finish her line.

"YOU SHUT THE MOTHERFUCKING UP PISS SHIT!" she yelled back and walked into the stinking bathroom, slapping the ruffian right across his cheeks. "Look at your own sorry ass before you try to fuck someone of the right mind up."

Then she stormed out of the bathroom, slamming the bedroom door behind her. The brute continued laying in silence in the bathroom, palms pressing into his eyes in his attempt to prevent the fluids from escaping his tear ducts.

"Shit, you don't have to mention his name…"

Trish walked down the stairs stomping angrily, disregarding the possibility of it collapsing from the impact. She was about to start cussing at the useless fellow upstairs when she noticed a young maiden at the front door waiting to be served.

"Hi there, can I help you?" Trish politely questioned at her potential client.

The maiden paced in with small steps, holding a small wristlet with both hands. She looked almost divine—too polite, gentle and demure. It wasn't common for someone like her to come by their rundown architecture for it would be unlikely that she would have any business with demon slayers like them. People like her should just be staying home attending to their husbands or something.

"We have not met, have we?" Trish asked once more, standing behind the business counter now.

"I'm… looking for Dante." She replied as she placed her wristlet on the counter to pull a photo out from it. She handed it to Trish who looked surprised at the person in the picture.

"Nero?"

"Yes, do you know him?" she puzzled.

"Yeah sure. The kid Dante entrusted Yamato with."

She paused for a moment, not understanding what Trish meant since she didn't exactly know the terms. The blonde took the hint and swayed her hand sideways, indicating for her to ignore what she had just said.

"Let's just say, me and Dante met up with this kid in our mission to bring down the Order and his pursuit to save you."

"Oh…" she sighed lightly, fully aware of the trouble and inconvenience she had caused being involved.

"It's okay girl, it's our job to demon-slay and his job to be hero of the day. Anyways what can I do for you? Something your hero boyfriend can't solve?" she jested deliberately.

She tilted her head down as a genuine look of worry loomed over. Then digging into her pouch, she took out another neatly folded piece of paper and placed it on the table.

"He… …he left this."

Trish sneered at the piece of paper and jested sarcastically. "Well well, I hope he didn't sleep with you and leave this piece of paper the very next day as a form of romance." She then opened up the letter and read the contents silently.

**_Kyrie,_**

**_I'm sorry I have to go._**_**  
**_**_I need to find my past._**_**  
**_**_I cannot allow myself to continue living without knowing my true past._**_**  
**_**_But I assure you, once I found it, I will return, back to you._**

**_Nero_**.

Trish noticed the young maiden biting her lips lightly, looking nervous and uncomfortable. Though it was nothing peculiar for her to be worried about her supposed boyfriend, she sensed something amiss in her anxiety. Her sixth sense was telling her that there was more than it seemed.

Then again, it struck her that taking on this job might jut pull Dante out of his misery and get him back into some decent action. Apparently saving Dante's sanity was the utmost priority to her at the moment therefore she would take any offer that presented itself.

"Kyrie… right? Considered it done." She smiled genuinely at the lost little girl.

A heavy sigh of relief escaped Kyrie's lips. She immediately thanked Trish for their assistance with her ever-renowned pleasant glowing smile.

"I will let you know when the boy is found and of course, _the payment in lieu_."

There was an underlying discretion beneath the message she sent to Kyrie that even the maiden sensed it, almost as though her intentions were being seen through by this intelligent being and everything would have gone to waste if found so. To avoid risking it, Kyrie simply bowed with a gesture of gratitude as she quickly exited the office.

Snatching the piece of paper and photo on the desk, Trish ran upstairs and drive-kicked through his door.

"Wake up jackass, there is work to be done. And I'm positive you don't wanna miss this one."

She leaned against the side of the bathroom door and stared at the ruffian, dangling the photo of the boy at the tip of her fingers. He sneaked a peek at her and wondered just what it could be of greatness to spur her into such confidence.

Well, only the well-paid ones were, unless…

"What up then?"

"Your kid dumped his girlfriend to find his past."

"My kid? First of all, he ain't no kid of mine. Secondly, it's not exactly my problem now, is it?" He snickered at her, justifying his decline to her request.

"The kid is going to find his past. In any case if you may have forgotten, he has Yamato. Not to mention he's half demon as well. Just imagine what would happen if he uses Yamato for the wrong means just to find his past? He may even enter the demon world to do so."

"So?" He already knew what she was getting at.

"The Hellgates will be released once again. You want him to follow the footsteps of—"

"ALRIGHT! I get your point, you don't have to go any further."

She grinned slyly, harnessing his weakness as a weapon. "Now clean up, we've got work to do."

Dante knew his weakness and hated it. Though always a fearless hunter, there was always something still holding him back. The past that smeared his memories killed him somewhere inside back on that day. Even till now, he wished he knew what he could have done to change things. He knew why he was left in this world, and _he_ in the other, he just… just…

Just wished things could go back to the way they were.

He took a quick shower to wash the bloodstains away. Standing in front of his mirror, he finally aligned the titled glass back straight up. Many a times he would comb back his moist hair and look into his reflection, searching for comfort in this silent room. The attempts were futile nonetheless, only scarring him deeper while he recalled further.

Just as the reminiscence was going to hit him, he shoved away its remains and picked up his shaver from the shelf. He shaved his thin layer of stubble, trying to look fresh as compared to his usual crappy self. It took him only a few seconds to realize he had been out of practice for the longest time that he cut the skin along his jaw line with the razor. But the wound healed almost immediately, since demon legacy ran through his veins.

Reaching for a clean towel in his wardrobe, he ruffled through the moisture and dried his hair before dropping the towel. He looked through the clothing that he had worn over the years. They brought back memories; rewarding ones, memorable, sweet ones and even exhilarating ones. Except for one, the red biker trench coat and khaki cargo pants. This one had a long history, way too long in fact. It contained the memories that he held most dear.

But he had locked these memories away. They were too painful to recollect.

Pulling out the black suit he previously wore in the conquest he set out for Lady where he met Nero, he fumbled roughly putting them on. Opening the hidden compartment against the wall of the wardrobe, he retrieved Ebony and Ivory to fully reload them. He tucked them away in the back of his pants before pulling Rebellion out of the small closet.

Who would have thought this small wooden junk could contain so many demon arms.

Once completely geared up, he paced down the stairway to see Trish waiting for him by the counter table, holding a large '**Out for Business**' door sign in her hand.

"Thought you might wanna hang this up yourself. It has been a while…"

He sneered at her suggestion as he took the sign from her along with the letter clasped to it. He shook the letter open and read the fine print.

"Well, I never knew the kid was so heartless."

"Maybe it runs in the family." She remarked sarcastically.

"Yeah… maybe. But pops ain't like that. So we're the mutated ones I guess." He chuckled at his own comment while grabbing his infamous red coat from the rack near the wall behind his desk.

Folding the letter carelessly, he kept it in the inner coat pocket, probably in need of using it against the kid in order to get his ass back to his little girlfriend. He walked to the entrance and jam-kicked the double doors open. Lightly jumping off the 2-step pavement from his door, he threw the door sign into the air and hit it straight against his Devil May Cry signboard.

Trish followed slowly from behind and looked at the broken door—it looked like it was about to cry.

"Did you really have to do that? That door's not gonna hold out much longer."

"Hey, you want me to get the job done?"

She sighed at his stubbornness but was also slightly relieved at the sight of his usual persona. She then trotted to her bike casually and started up the vehicle.

"I'll gather my part and you do yours. Can't be babysitting you the whole time."

And with that she rode off without him right in front of his own Shop. This repeated scenario never failed to make him question himself every time why she would abandon and leave him clueless when she already had all the equipment she needed. The difference between the basics of starting from scratch and being abandoned in broad daylight like this was way too big for him to accept. _Hell, she always gets the pie while I get the crumbs. Life is always so fair,_that was as much as what Dante could gather from the equality between men and women.

Nevertheless, he smoothed along the Devil's Alley as he looked up at the glaring sun.

"This summer… is burning me up."

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I am re-running some details because there are certain minor aspects that I want to drop from my ideas over a year ago.


	2. Episode 02: Lead

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry.**

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Sunset. The sun could instantly tan anyone in this heat.

A young lad, backpacking a heat-triggering sword, paced along Devil's Alley towards the entrance of Devil May Cry. Apparently the '**Out for Business**' sign came in handy as the boy bore holes in it with his blue eyes. No one was around and ready to answer his questions.

_Capulet City eh? Well at least he's so goddamn famous everyone knows where he bunks out._

He held a similar piece of letter in his demon arm before slipping it back into his navy blue trench coat. He took a short rest on the two-step pavement, sitting down and musing deep in thought. Clenching his fist against each other, he laid his head on his hands and closed his eyes, flashing back deep into his memories.

_After the Order was brought down, he took Kyrie somewhere quiet to settle down. The whole town was in devastation, becoming simply impossible to stay in anymore. Though the place held ultimate importance to the both of them, especially considering the death of Credo in his desperate attempt to save Nero, they knew the dead could only stay in their memories while the living had to move on._

_Eventually they settled somewhere near Rome a couple of railway stations away from the isolated town. Some remaining believers of the Order recognized Kyrie and Nero and offered them to stay over at one of the vacant apartments that might have belonged to the Order, or those who had deceased._

_Four months passed and every day was blissful. The young couple had earned their livelihood by helping out the believers at their small grocery shop. Kyrie even gave classes to young children from poor families who couldn't afford local schools. From time to time, she would also bring Nero to class since the children grew fond of his "heroic" appearance. Well, he was obviously the only person in town with white hair, blue eyes and not to mention a wickedly cool-looking appendage—how "un-superhero" could that be? Their welcoming aptitude towards him surprised him, especially since the people of Fortuna never extended their arms that way. Young or old, they were the same._

_The villagers harboured their share of wariness towards the ex-Order member, but time had proven to never judge a book by its cover. It also took Nero some time before he finally adjusted to the new environment, specifically getting used to being accepted and liked for who he was. It was the first time he felt ungrudging towards mankind. In fact he was beginning to like them._

_Life was manageable but in return, it was the best since Nero last remembered._

_In spite so, he couldn't help but feel that something was amiss.__Every fortnight the lad would sit on the balcony of their little stay, wandering in his own world of abyss as he looked at his devil bringer and began pondering to himself. Kyrie noticed this new habit he had taken up but which he never shared with her. She supposed he didn't want her to worry, so she refrained herself from asking about it._

_Apart from that, their relationship had not progressed any further, staying the same as it had always been. Even after the touching reunion they shared after Sanctus' defeat, nothing else changed. The love was stagnant, or rather regressing. Thence if you were expecting the steamy sex to follow suit, it did not happen._

_Kyrie had expected it to happen naturally but Nero didn't appear to have attempted so. They had barely gone anywhere further than a mild peck on the forehead, cheeks or lips. Though uncertainty crept into her mind a few times, she simply brushed it off, refusing to explore any further speculations. If Nero had wanted a platonic relationship with her, she would no doubt agree to keep it as pure as he would prefer._

_The days passed by peacefully until one day while dusting the house, she stumbled upon a palm-sized antique chest hidden in a corner of the containment where Nero kept his ammunition. Slowly, she picked up the fragile object from the box and unhooked the clip of the intricately-designed square shaped metal case to find a piece of aged paper, burnt. Carefully unfolding it, she read the note, well aware she was being impolite._

… … **_lit….. ain't ….. want…. have to… …forget… me… be mine._**

**_... remember… blood…. there for you._**

_Those were the only words legible but it was enough to determine that the handwriting wasn't Nero's. Who could have written this note to him? The thought plagued her mind for a moment as she returned the note to the case. To her dismay, Nero abruptly barged into the room after noticing the light was lit up from across the street._

"_WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"_

_The ex-Order member shouted blaringly across the room. He had never screamed at her, not once in their entire companionship since they first met. She was startled and agape at his sudden outburst, worried about his exaggerated expression. He actually moved in to snatch the piece of regret from her hands, lightly hurting her in the process._

_Having secured the piece of paper, he slumped on his bed and took some time to calm down before gathering enough courage to speak to her once again._

"_I'm sorry Kyrie but I—"_

_He paused as soon as he saw the tears flowing down the maiden's eyes. The fright she experienced was apparent in her red eyes as she backed away from the half demon. He gritted his teeth tightly, clenching his fist and punching it right into his thighs, contrite for his actions. The facial muscles between his eyes tensed up, and he felt disgruntled from the immense heartburn._

_He couldn't understand it as well_—_why he had responded so enormously over a rotten piece of paper._

_That was the moment Kyrie realized Nero was in pain all this time._

_She stood up from the floor and lightly brushed her gown, quietly making her way out of his room. At the exit, she apologized politely._

"_I'm sorry, Nero."_

_The boy collapsed completely in his lair, slapping his forehead with his human hand while kicking his blanket in fits of dole. The remorse kicked in and lasted the entire night until he finally tired himself to sleep at the break of dawn._

_However Kyrie had disappeared by the time he woke up to check on her a couple of hours later. Her room was cleared of all her belongings and everything seemed neatly tidied to express gratitude to the owners at the very least. He ran over to the window to see if she might still be around, only to no avail. As the remnants of his hopes slowly crumbled, something shiny reflecting under the blaze of the sun caught his attention._

_On the bed was a small piece of note pressed beneath the golden teardrop-shaped winged necklace that he had given her. Stinging feelings went straight into his heart. His eyes were submitting their restraint soon as he opened the letter she left for him._

**_Dear Nero,_**

**_I don't know what I have done. I don't know if I have made the right choice. But I know your heart isn't here anymore. Perhaps even your love has gone. That's why I have to go, so you can have the freedom to search for the answers that you seek._**

**_I thank you for saving me from the Order, and even so avenge my brother, Credo. But my selfishness has to end, for my songs are no longer what you need. So run free, Nero. For the one who has captured your heart, and I believe your answers shall be found._**

**_Loving you always,_**_**  
**_**_Kyrie._**

That was four days ago.

And now the young devil sat at the front of Dante's Office. If he needed an answer, he was sure Dante was the only one who could provide him a satisfying one. Just as Kyrie said, he wanted to find the answers that might already be too late.

But since the Sparda son was not around, he wasn't about to sit and wait for him to return from whatever business he had gone for. He lacked the virtue known as patience, as always. Walking past the street sign addressing Devil's Alley, he crossed into 66th Sunset Avenue to grab a quick bite at a diner next to a building proudly named Love Planet.

As soon as he entered the diner, a young waitress came forth to settle him down at a comfortable spot by the window.

"Can I get you something, handsome?" she flirted with the pretty boy, flashing him a generous smile.

"Erm… a sandwich and a cola will do."

She scribbled the order down briefly and repeated it to double confirm. "So that'll be a house sandwich and a cola. Comin' right up!"

He nodded and stared out the window blankly, disappointed at the old man's absence.

In about five minutes, the same girl returned with his order and placed them down nicely on his table. After delivering his meal, she stood by looking at the ex-Order member for a moment before she spoke up hesitantly.

"You don't say… you kinda remind me of the dashing Dante just up the street."

Nero stopped halfway through his meal, taking an interest in her comment.

"You know Dante?"

She let out a laugh, emphasizing the popularity of this infamous devil hunter, or flirtatious Casanova.

"Everyone knows Dante, especially when Love Planet's just next door."

"He… goes there all the time?" the punk was absolutely baffled since he had no idea what Love Planet was.

"When he was younger, yeah. He went there so often I lost track. He was sucha dashing young lad he caught the fancy of plenty o'girls next door. And you look remarkably just like him."

"Well, it's clear I'm not him. What's this Love Planet anyways?"

"Oh boy you sure get me crackin'! It's a strip club! You're nothing like him after all! Young and decent, serious, most likely the faithful type. His total opposite."

Nero felt disgusted at the thought of Dante visiting this 'Love Planet'. He felt his stomach twist at the thought of him ogling at naked girls, letting them get on top of him for a lap dance and then making out at the back alley. _Perverted asshole._

"Thanks for the compliments differentiating us." He gestured sarcastically.

"Oh, he did drop by this afternoon for one last slab of pizza before saying something about going on another long trip. It was rather rare he came by at all, 'cause usually he'd just call us for delivery. The girls were thrilled to have him around again."

The young hunter stopped at the credibility of this new source of information again. He emptied his cola quickly and outsourced for his new lead.

"Did he say where he was going?"

"He mentioned he had no clue the whereabouts of the target for this job, so he's gonna first try his luck near the sea where Temen-Ni-Gru once stood."

"What's that?"

"That's his past, boy. One that none of us had the courage to question. Try the Seven Seas, you might be in for a surprise or two."

Nero slowly stood up from his table and dropped a couple of extra bucks as tips on the lady's order pad. As he headed towards the exit, he looked back once and thanked the lady for her information before the automatic door shut itself behind him.

The waitress walked back to the cashier counter to drop off the bills to the owner before entering the kitchen. She took the back exit and strolled to a smart black badass bike, digging the key in. With a swift movement, she pulled away her dressy skirt from behind and reappeared in her usual black corseted top and black leathery pants, lengthy boots stretching up to her knees.

"Leaving already, Trish?" the owner shouted from behind.

"Yeah, job's done. Thanks Marcus." She gestured with a hand and winked at the old man as she rode off in the other direction.

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Thanks to those who read, commented, fav-ed and alerted this.


	3. Episode 03: The Invisible Wall

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry.**

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Nightfall. The clock had just struck twelve.

The full moon hid behind the wispy clouds. Stars splashed across the sky—they looked like crystals which had shattered into a million pieces, scattering all over the azure canvas high above. Clouds were long and thinly stretched like cotton shreds. The trees in the woods were mostly pine trees, leaves well separated from one petal to another visibly. The waters were so calm that they looked as though painted on landscape.

One word sums it all up, _breathtaking_.

Dante slowly strolled towards the jetty along the sea, carefully taking a seat down. He took another sip from the can of beer he held along the way and stopped for the night. He had checked in at a small inn earlier just further up from the bay. "Seven Seas Motel" it said.

Soft tunes originated from the music player he played in his hand. The melody vibrated in the stillness as the soft lyrics were barely heard singing from his lips.

_Hold up... hold on... don't be scared__  
__You'll never change what's been and gone__  
__May your smile... Shine on... Don't be scared__  
__Your destiny may keep you warm_

Music buzzed through his ears, coughing out the sorrows he had swallowed down his throat. The pride he possessed had always stopped him from succumbing to his emotions, but at the same time they had forced him to walk through the darkest periods in his life alone. With every battle he danced with death, he came one step closer to his limit break.

Therefore he dedicated moments like this wholeheartedly. It's not exactly something he often practiced, but nevertheless a useful alternative to relieve depression.

However, something about tonight was different. The months of lull had most likely corrupted his mind to nothing but violence and sex—let's not forget about drinking either. Blood, sex, and nicotine were no longer just partaking in his routine; they came close to staple food evidently.

Daunted by the sudden realization, tears began to crowd.

The clouds shifted away as the cold breeze began sinking in. The chill only extensively amplified the loneliness gathering in his heart.

_Cos all of the stars are fading away__  
__Just try not to worry you'll see them some day__  
__Take what you need and be on your way__  
__And stop crying your heart out_

Stopping at the end of the chorus, he ruffled his white bangs with his empty hand. Frustration emitted from his crestfallen face. The dejected hunter folded his bent knees inwards, resting the other arm holding the beer can on it. Tears dribbled dryly off the corners of his eyes as he rubbed them away, but they wouldn't stop cascading.

"Why… why aren't you here… with me…"

"_DANTE! GO!"_

_The balance of the Hellgates was distorting. Semi-injured, Dante clasped the pain radiating from his abdomen as he reached out into the crack towards Hell. His eyes rained affliction at the sight of losing._

"_!"_

_Losing the one closest to his heart._

"**_NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_**

_He screamed from the bottom of his lungs as the figure dissipated into the burning darkness._

Dante struggled to open his eyes anxiously, escaping the replaying nightmare before his eyes. He had dozed off at the jetty in the freezing night. His face had remains of the stickiness dried up from the tears he cried out in his sleep. Instinctively rubbing his eyes, he carried himself up from the ground and limped his way back with his numbed feet.

Gently opening the doors of the motel, he climbed up to the second floor where his room was. He removed his top and collapsed onto the soft cotton-filled bed after turning up the heater in the room. His mind was blank—lost for words, thoughts, or expressions of any sort. He had tried draining out every bit of the dream but to no avail. The close encounter reminded him of the devouring memories still retained in his mind.

_Too close_.

Nevertheless, he slipped into slumber again from the after-effects of his intense lamenting.

"_Why Vergil? Why must you do all this?" Dante grabbed Rebellion and swung it towards Vergil, who easily dodged from his Stinger attack._

"_Foolishness, Dante. You may have abandoned your true powers, but I will never forgo what father has left us. Only the strongest will survive, even though it's too late for to change anything now. Fight me. I've always wanted to end this misery once and for all."_

_The blue-coated demon waved Yamato from his torso to a battling position. He taunted the younger Sparda to accept his challenge again; a score they should have settled way back before things evolved into the way they were now._

"_Do we really have to do this? Can't we stay the way we have always been…?" The younger boy questioned wryly, reluctant to give up. Despite the amount of words he had meant to convey, the younger Sparda could only stagger to maintain his equilibrium while he hoisted Rebellion against Yamato._

"_We can't. We can never be anymore."_

_Staring straight at his mirror twin, his sapphire eyes couldn't deny the fact that he was lying between his teeth._

"_Why? I don-I don't want this… No… no…" The younger half fell to his knees, dropping Rebellion on the pool burning the Hell floor. Hopes dashed in his attempt to avert tragedy. Reality slapped hard across his bruised soul, leaving him helpless to defend for himself._

"_Dante…"_

"_Take this damn power if this is what you want. Take and kill me with it. Then I'll become a part of you and we'll never be apart…"_

_The younger half stretched his arms sideways, waiting for his death execution. The pain stilt in his heart was excruciating, incomparable to anything he had ever experienced. He could no longer bear the burn. He sought relief, needed it. Choosing death never felt easier than this. Dante knew he loved his brother too much to imagine a life without him. So since he had to make a decision, he would give whatever the other desired. Power is meaningless if he had nothing or no one to protect._

_And maybe… his other half just felt the same way coming from the reversed role._

_Vergil traipsed up towards his brother in a binding grip on the sheath of Yamato, eyes fixating on the battled body served ahead of him. His steps rushed through ripple splashes. The red demon could clearly hear and sense his brother approaching—though looking unfeeling, his chest wore a smile knowing all would end soon._

_As he approached the silhouette up front, Vergil dropped his knees before Dante, extending strong arms around the younger twin and pulling him into a warm embrace. Indescribable feelings caught in his throat and all he could do was to express them through the tight clutches he held Dante in. His warmth slowly filled the latter's body, soothing the trembling body he clasped firmly. Dante bit hard on his lips before succumbing to the tenderness Vergil doted him with, shaking violently while he returned the embrace. Despite the accumulated rounds of sparring that left them both beaten and hurt, it was undisputed they tried to kill one another for the win._

_Tried, but never intended to._

"_You fool…" Vergil hummed hesitantly as he leaned his forehead against the crying boy's, comforting him in his own ways._

_The gate screeched like the devil's cry and Vergil was well aware it was beginning to close. He wanted power and Dante even more, but there was no way he could ever obtain both. To be trapped in Hell forever wasn't the best gift he could offer to his beloved brother since it could underwhelm his little cocky carefree nature. The older twin wanted nothing to change Dante—he was perfect the way he was, and he loved him so much for that. He had to make a decision right now-_

_-even if it means to sacrifice the dearest thing he ever possessed._

"_I will never be able to hurt you… Never…" Dante cried while he clung onto Vergil dearly, as though clinging on for dear life._

"_Dante…"_

"_Don't leave me Vergil… Don't-ever… " He whispered needfully into the older brother's ear._

_The older demon held his little brother, enclosing him fully into his ardor. Dante enjoyed earnestly, unable to use words to communicate the feelings developed inside. The love they consummated seemed to have finally reunited with one another in this cinch._

_Seizing the perfect moment, Vergil tilted his brother's chin upwards and pressed his lips on the soft rosary he had ravaged night after night. He gently nibbled on the kissable lips, sucking on them until they turned blood red. Dante gasped in between his breaths, grabbing onto his lover's arms intensely retaining some control. He felt the moist warm flesh teasing between his lips, yearning for access which he welcoming granted. Vergil deepened the kiss, pulling his brother in strongly by the waist as he caressed his lover's tender soul that craved to be healed._

_If Dante had to die now, he would die with no regrets. It didn't seem __elusive even it had been a façade; at least he dreamed of the perfect ending which he no longer have to wake up from._

"_I love you Dante… which is why…" Vergil paused for a moment._

_His red-clad lover waited for him to complete his sentence patiently, losing his grip to look and hear him fully._

_But what came in return couldn't have surprised Dante more than anything in his entire life._

_In a split hair's time, Vergil picked up Yamato and shoved it into Dante's arms as he immediately pushed him away from his grasp. The hasty pace disorientated Dante in his thoughts as he collapsed backwards on his bum. Despite quickly jumping back on his feet to search for Vergil, he realized the older twin was gone by the time he clambered back to the spot his twin had previously knelt on._

"**_VERGILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!_**_" His eyes stung with fear and despair as he reached out into the shadow of the blue demon in the fallen lacuna._

_A cold shudder spread throughout the other half who was left behind once the frame was entirely consumed into the void. The gates had sealed completely. His azure irises sliced light out as it disheveled into full opacity, discoloring into bloodstreams of redness around the white areas.__The red-clad demon continued kneeling, almost forgetting the need to breathe in the hysteria. __Blankness passing through his vacant mind left him frozen. __An eerie silence filled the arena. Time had seemed to stop and everything left in the battlefield stood motionless._

_Until, he heard a voice._

'_I love you always, Dante. _**_Always._**_'_

The golden rays of the sun shot through the gap in between the drapery, stirring the listless devil hunter up. The wound-up clock pointed seven as he sat up. His eyes were dry now, dehydrated from the endless bawl he could have done so in his sleep.

He had not been having this dream for a very long time.

_Get up... Come on... why you're scared_  
_You'll never change what's been and gone_

It felt so real as though it had only happened yesterday.

The scars were beginning to resurface on their own; scars he tried masking all these years. He pulled himself close into his own cradle, digging into his bent knees. Tears threatened to fall once again. The lament hadn't subsided; any swing close enough would have shed them again. So he took his cigarette case and plodded to the nearest window for a quick smoke. He doesn't need the additional burden now.

And smoking calms him down most of the time.

_When did I even started this_, he stared intensely at the tiny vile of toxic. He would ask himself senseless questions like these at times, often forgetting all the reasons behind. He took a quick puff, inhaling the bitter scent of burnt leaves, which tasted much like reality.

_Snap outta it Dante, don't falter for one stupid dream. He ain't here anymore…_

_Oh yeah, he's the asshole who got me starting all this._

It took about three sticks before he finally had his head cooled off. Taking his top from the dressing table, he slipped it back on as he dragged his feet across a full length mirror hanging from the dry wall. The scars on his body were as enthralled as the ones in his mind. He knew how to get them off to look brand new again but it wasn't the right time to do it, nor apparently will any time be the moment to get it done.

Repelled by the sight of his own body, he zipped his black pullover instantly and went ahead to clean himself up before checking out of the motel.

The morning sun was enticing, sunny but cooling.

_Now to find the kid,_ he thought to himself as he headed for the railway station towards the deserted town.

_Stop crying your heart out…_

* * *

_Note: The song Dante's listening to is 'Oasis – Stop Crying your heart out'._

Thanks to SirenaLoreley for your greatest support! And also to others who have remained anonymous but continued to support my work.


	4. Episode 04: Guns and Wildfire

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry. **

* * *

Brunch. A little late for breakfast and too early for lunch.

Nero finally arrived at the outskirts of the infamous Seven Seas. He glanced through the row of shop houses—motels, eateries, grocers and some other boutiques. Although he was pretty doubtful about the given lead, it was better than having none.

Starting from the first shop he stepped foot in, he inquired about a white-haired man dressed in red and black, likely to be travelling with a huge case. The extraordinary features of the devil hunter himself should be easily recognizable without much use of a photograph.

One after another, each shop owner declined his search with either a 'Never seen this man before' or 'I'm not sure' unfortunately. Frustration, in the form of being completely vexed, swarmed the ex-Order member with disappointment trailing not too far behind. He continued along the stoned walkway until he came across the Seven Seas Motel, one of the last buildings remaining.

The door bell chimed as he entered the premises; a small wooden architecture painted in white and brown to compliment the country-like ambient getaway. The receptionist politely greeted as Nero made way to the counter.

"Good morning sir, welcome to Seven Seas Motel. How may I help you?" the teenage girl addressed amiably.

"Yeah hi there. Just like to know if you'd seen a white-haired man in a red coat around this area? Probably with something huge on his back too."

The girl appeared surprised at his query as she took her registry out, browsing and scrutinizing for a name.

"Actually yes I think… the man you said—a male in his thirties with white hair right? Dressed in red and black and very, very handsome."

Nero spurred at the comment as he was certain that that was no doubt Dante.

"Yeah, that's him! Is he around?"

She pointed at the details next to the name she had on her book and answered, "He arrived at about ten the previous night, but checked out this morning. Somewhere between eight to nine I'm afraid."

Upon his dismay, the ex-Order member made short work of the smile he wore while he turned for the exit. Consideration was the least he could portray.

"Did he, by any chance, say anything before he left?"

"No… I'm afraid not."

"Okay… sure, thanks a lot."

"Alright then…" the girl sensed the despondency in his words but there was nothing she could do either.

Carrying the last of his hopes out with him, he gave a light nod as he exited the edifice. Just before the door closed behind him, he wanted to clear his inquisition.

"Hey, what's his name?"

She paused for a moment before she peered from her counter, "Dante. That's the name I have."

As the sound of the door shut close, he heaved a heavy sigh for he felt completely lost at crossroads. The fresh breeze blew across his hair, messing it as he ran fingers through. He strolled towards the direction of the wind, captivated by the magnificent view of sea.

The scene gradually expanded into horizon, light touching the blue sea. He spotted an old jetty extending outwards to the waters and made his way carefully across the wooden plank, inhaling the salty aroma of the sea. While he settled down by the edge of the jetty, his palms pressed over a hard object on the deck which startled him slightly.

It was a music player, matching red and black.

He lifted the foreign object and examined it thoroughly. The touch of its sleek metallic skin and design replicated over it evidently resembled to something he recalled.

Or someone, in fact.

"I know this thing..." Nero felt like he knows it, but for some reason he just can't exactly explain why.

Just as he flipped the device from his left hand to his Bringer, his talons blinked in a sudden flash. It glowed dimly after catching the device in it. The pulsation was mild but definitely reacting to it.

While he brought the player close to the hilt of his lips, a voice echoed through his head abruptly.

_Nero… Nero… …_

"What?" he questioned aloud to himself.

_You're mine Nero._

"Who are you?"

_It's me… you know it._

Before he pried for another question, he snapped his eyes open and jumped up from his spot. He made a run back to the motel and headed straight for the reception again.

"Hey! Can you show me his room?"

Though baffled, the lass took him upstairs to the used room.

"This is the room." She answered while unlocking the door. Nero slowly entered the small compartment and inspected around meticulously.

"I will show myself out once I'm done. Thanks again, miss-?"

"Rachel." She giggled shyly and headed back to her work desk. The young devil trotted around the room, still holding the music player in his hand. The glow was imminent, maintaining a stable flow of energy. Moving from the bed to the windows, then the couch, wardrobe so on and forth, there was no other static picked up. Even the bathroom had nothing as well.

Clueless again, Nero dropped onto the seat beside the dressing table. Seeing that the music player had no further use, he left it on the desk before he turned to leave. But just as he was about to do so, the glow on his devil bringer extended.

It began to sparkle so brightly that a ring of light illuminated from the edges.

He looked around the table, expecting to find some sort of information. Then upon scrutinizing very intently at the drawer, there was a corner of a yellow colored paper sticking out from it—a small coarse-grained material shown after being pulled out slowly, an envelope.

The light illuminated brightly with the envelope held in his hand as he tore it open. There was nothing inside though, perhaps emptied or contents taken before he arrived, but the cover of the envelope clearly stated:

"**Dante."**

It was addressed to the older Sparda. Nero turned the envelope to its back and immediately noticed the fine print right at the bottom. Much to his delight, the address of the parcel's origin had conveniently been stamped on it.

"**Rome Railway Stazione."**

Nero dashed out of the room as it slammed shut from his swing. By the time the lass had realized the young male departing, he had already sped out of the motel before she even had the chance to say goodbye.

The coach ride to the station was horrendous—travel across the meadows was rugged and slow before entering the city. Now standing in the midst of the station, Dante proceeded to one of the counters to retrieve his ticket with the endorsement letter he held in his hand.

"Hey babe, care to check my ticket up?"

He slid the letter across the desk to which the receptionist received from the other side. After typing a few initials and scanning the barcode available on the document, she printed out the reserved ticket and handed it back to the elder hunter.

"Thank you for the wait, sir. Your reserved booking will depart at 12.30PM. Please kindly board the train 15 minutes before departure. You may use the storage space above your seat to store your luggage. Have a pleasant journey."

He winked at the mature woman in the booth and went towards the boarding area. Since the train had arrived, he wasted no time boarding immediately to locate his seat. Finally settling into a comfortable position, he rested his feet on the chair opposite, then slouched on his back.

_Today'll be a better day_.

Shortly the chains rustling began to echo through the cabins as the old metal jolted at its start up. The heat of the sun drowned the older Sparda in agony while the vehicle gathered more speed. The wheels continued moving faster until the regulated travelling speed had been stabilized.

It would be another six hours before the train arrives in Fortuna.

A younger woman looked towards Dante's direction, captivated by the silvery glow from his head. He detected the sharp glare filled with admiration and glanced around—there was no one else around other than the two of them.

_How delightful_.

The celibate sauntered over, hips swaying from side to side to a soundless melody. With open arms stretched outwards on the back of the chair and legs proudly apart, the elder in his slouched posture welcomed the sexy vixen.

"COME HERE BABY!"

"HSSSS!"

She lapped onto the devil hunter, teasing him with light strokes caressing across his broad chest. Grinding her hips downwards against his groin, she pressed her abdomen against the hunter's torso while running fingers through his hair. The red-clad demon grinned from one end to the other as his hand reached to the back of the bewitching female. Grabbing a handful of her curled hair, he forcefully yanked her away from his body causing her body to strain backwards while he instinctively placed Ebony just right above her motherhood. She hissed at the moaning pain and the touch of cold metal against her skin. Her disdain brought pleasures to the elder's ear as he cuddled close to the nape of her neck, bringing Ivory up to her temples. Disgruntled, she launched from the hunter's warmth, detaching from their overheated intimacy.

Afloat, her lips began to bruise as her skin color decolorized into a deathly pale blue. Those bronze eyes on her face lightened in yellow iridescence as her irises narrowed to a slit. Black painted nails elongated as it protruded outwards from her bony fingers, turning into wolf-like claws. Distortion warped all over her body as the flesh melted off her body, reducing to skin-over-bone features. The earmark of her lynx-like fangs bearing were drooling all over the hot ground, salivating from the wild cackle.

She hissed sadistically as she licked the blood dripping from her sharp manus soon after she landed.

"MAN! Isn't that just sexy? Sweet baby!" Dante sneered loudly, adrenaline getting pumped up after days of boredom. Blood slightly oozed from his torso; the vixen seemed pretty quick with her hands and feet, thankfully.

_This is gonna be fun._

"I'm glad you like it, S-S-SSS-Son of SSS-SS-Sparda!" she growled manically as the grin on her face extended, allowing her orifice to distend.

"S-S-S-Son of S-S-S-SSSparda. Why can't any of you get it in your sss-ss-s-stupid head? My name's-s-s-s Dante alright?"

"S-SS-SSSILENCE! YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR MOCKERY!" Snarling at her menace, she pounced with death grips ready to choke the life out of the Sparda son.

"NOW WE'RE TALKING!" Dante hoisted Ebony and Ivory as he latched his back against the floor, gliding across the ground beneath the ghastly figure to capitalize the creature's opening.

Approaching the end of his glissade, he stomped against the side of the train seats and propelled his body up from the ground before the creature managed to drive her jagged feet into his body. He fired a couple more shots, hitting her arms which successfully restricted some of her violent clawing motions. Howling in agony, the feline leaped to the ceiling of the metal scrap, hanging upside down glaring at her nemesis.

"Auuwwww… don't wanna play with your s-ssssugar daddy anymore?" Dante chuffed at the creature, swinging his hands sideways in his renowned Trickster position spinning his babies in playful roulette. He was expecting a better showcase than this.

"FOOLISSSHNESSSSSSS!" she grated, causing the windows in the train to break.

Oblivious to the on-going situation, a young lad speeding on his motorcycle beside the train noticed the commotion.

Despite missing the departing train, Nero had been chasing after it when he discovered Dante had boarded the particular shuttle towards Fortuna from the station counter subsequently. He was able to clarify the credibility of the information with the envelope he brought along, enquiring from the same counter lady coincidentally. It took him awhile to catch up with the heavy vehicle, letting instinct guide his faith.

Finally catching the train in sight, his demonic arm began to glow, indicating some form of response similar to the player or envelope previously. In addition to that, the explosion clearly defined the work of a certain old man.

"Hey hey, no cheating alright? Breaking a few glasses ain't gonna help you." The older male sniggered, assuming consented defeat from the feline.

The celibate lowered her body from the ceiling and stood poised before Dante, appearing nonchalant to his ridicule. She slowly closed her eyes, then let out a sudden snarl as she violently swung her claws rampantly.

Dante made notice of her abnormal behavior and evaded her vicious attacks. However, the main focus seemed to be the winds coming into the cabin from the broken windows, stirring the furniture in brutal waves. The older Sparda brought his arms closer to his body, defending himself from the burring splinters. He clasped the grip of his pistols tightly, knocking wind away to clear vision for aegis. However the current was still too strong as the vixen slowly diminished from his sight, needless to say proven fatal in his current circumstances.

Before he could recover, blood gushed out from his thighs as the creature ripped his flesh. She was one with the winds—almost impregnable. Dante collapsed, kneeling on one knee to maintain his defensive stance. Tugging the curtain of zephyr before his sight, it was so intense that all he could perceive was a grey piece of molten mash. Even hunting for the sight of the window was impossible, despite standing just next to it.

While contemplating the leeway to punish, he suffered additional injuries across his torso as fresh blood trickled downwards before drying up instantly. The experienced hunter fired a few shots randomly though in futile attempts. Bullets had barely managed to hit anything and Rebellion wasn't helping in the situation as well—no matter how hard he tried cutting through the mistral, they only formed back before he could walk his way through it.

The number of injuries began to accumulate all over his body. Panting softly, the lack of oxygen in the current began wearing his respiration system down instead of the wounds.

"Giving up s-so s-ss-sss-ssoon already, SSS-S-S-SSon of S-SSSparda?" she humiliated the hunter while enjoying the moment of victory in her hands.

Vain attempts of retaliation were getting harder each and every time he tried. Grasping onto his babies, he gave one last desperate shot in an unknown direction before he fell onto both knees.

The bullet sliced across the gale and barely managed to drive through the window from the train. Coincidentally, this weak bullet dropped right in front of Nero's eyes and he reached out to grab the ammunition.

"OLD MAN!" He yelled aloud from the side of the train, balancing his ride over the rough ground spread along the meadow. Reaching for Blue Rose from his back, he looked into the train and quickly searched for the familiar old man.

Despite the depiction in Dante's head, the ex-Order member saw an entirely different sight. All he could see was a spherical round-shaped grey space gathering in a corner of the room and the rest of the room was perfectly intact. Although he couldn't find Dante, he definitely saw the ugly beast.

Immediately, Nero rounded a few shots into the train. The feline noticed his interference and lifted one of the furniture, throwing it towards the punk who skid his bike sideways to avoid the attack. The rampant toss tore a hole on the side of the train, allowing the young lad more vision and precision to take the demon down. He fired a few more rounds where one successfully hit the vital of the beast—a wind-like tattoo forged on her blue skin just above her heart.

Instantly, the constitution dissipated through the windows of the train as the wounded hunter was released from the vise. The feline tightly clasped the wound and hissed at Nero painfully.

"You bastard…"

"SNAP OUTTA IT OLD MAN!" the young comrade hollered at the old devil hunter who was coughing from the lack of oxygen.

"… Kid?"

"DUH? TAKE IT DOWN BEFORE IT RUNS!" Nero instructed, observing that the demon was attempting to flee.

"HSSSSSSSS! I WILL BE BACK, S-S-SSSS—!" she yelped, as another bullet shot straight into the same wound that Nero had aggravated earlier. The beast dropped onto the ground from the window sill, her eyes fading out of the golden glow. Slowly, she started to stiffen and erode into a pile of black substance before drying up into dust scattering into thin air.

Dante staggered to get up after apprehending the demon and leaned against the torn wall next to him. He gazed out the window and recognized the flushing young boy riding alongside of the train, looking at him the same way as he did.

His heart palpitated vigorously; the anxiety rushing into his head then back to his heart, over and over again.

Nero watched the old man on the train, covered in blood and bruises as far as he could see. Time seemed to have stopped in each other's presence silently. The young devil steered his bike closely to the ruptured train, in fact right next to the tearing entrance the demon had caused.

It took a while before it struck Dante that the boy he had meant to find was right in front of him.

"HEY KID! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE! YOUR GIRLFRIEND'S FINDING YA!" he screamed in the noisy background.

Which, Nero could hardly make out what he was saying from above.

"HUH? SAY WHAT?"

"I SAID! YOUR GIRLFRIEND'S FINDIN' YA!" Since his body had yet to recover from its beaten state, shrieking like a mad hound was no doubt a bad idea after being choked the life from. He glanced at the young punk who seemed very lost at his words as well.

As Nero prepared to make a jump on board from his seat, Dante noticed the dead-end coming up where the train would travel across a bridge over a valley before entering the mountains. It was barely a hundred feet away so the kid had to stop before he crash-land into the pits of debris from the plunge.

"**NERO WATCH OUT!"**

With one final attempt, he vociferated with his weakened voice as he pointed his index finger ahead, signaling to the young devil. Thankfully, Nero took a hint at last and realized the peril ahead. He slammed the brake tightly on the handles and the rapid vehicle screeched powerfully in order to come to a complete halt before the cliff. It jerked some meters over stones and rubles, wearing the tires out blunt then died at the edge of the meadow.

Dante slowly withered out of his sight as the train rolled across the slim rusty bridge, heading into the dark mountain tunnel that would slice through to another state of the country.

Using one foot to balance the bike on the ground, Nero watched the train dived into the pitch-black. Dante had disappeared along with it. He slammed a fist against the steering handles of the bike and cussed frustratingly.

"**FUCK!"**

The old man smiled slightly in the train, as though he had heard the words coming out from the angry little kid just before he drifted out.

* * *

Giving plenty thanks to those who have continuously supported me this far.


	5. Episode 05: Coffee, Tea or Me

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry.**

* * *

_Library. Books laid dormant on the ceiling-tall bookshelves._

_The beasty sun blared through the French window onto the wooden antique study tables and chairs. A young male sat in his arm chair, holding a very intricately designed book, reading intensely through the tinted pages. In the midst of his leisure, the aroma of bittersweet coffee fluttered in from the door, distracting him ever so slightly._

_"Coffee, tea, or me?"_

_An equally gorgeous devil twin, dressed in a skin-tight black singlet with his pelvic line peeking from hip-hanging jeans, placed the tray of beverages down. The silent male shifted his eyes to the edge of his book, twitching his eyebrow with a little grin tugging from the corner of his lips._

_"It'll be better if you're in that red apron mum used to wear."_

_"Is __that __your poison?"_

_"You__, are my poison."_

_The seated male left his book on the table and poured him a cup of coffee. Inhaling the bitter sweetness, he slowly sipped from his porcelain before returning to his novel to pick up from where he left off. However, his eyes never strayed too far away from his alluring twin. The latter paced his way to his side peering, resting his chin just above the shoulder of the seated twin._

_"Shakespeare? You'd gotta be kidding me, Verge."_

_"Classical literature refines the soul. Origins deserve better appreciation than the so-called modern art. However, if I may interpret in your perspective, this is but asking a junkie to appreciate the piano. Considering this, have you ever learnt to savor the fruits of written expression when we were young, Dante?" Mockery well-intended in Vergil's double-edged explanation._

_With given success, his younger brother snatched and tossed the book away; all in his prediction. He then leaned close and brushed his heated cheeks against Vergil's, nuzzling the softness in a grin that of a Cheshire. Retreating from his saucy gesture, Vergil watched his brother pouring milk into his drink, stirring the concoction before reaching for the sugar canister. 'I know what you're thinking, you little minx,' the elder twin smiled to himself, knowing he would oust his brother at any of his silly mind games, any day any time. But at times he did wonder if that might be his little brother's plan all along—then again, he reckoned his brother wasn't that intelligent to begin with._

_"Enough?", whispered from playful curvy lips._

_"Keep going."_

_The stirring continued._

_"You sure you're up for this, Verge? I can go all day, ya know?" Dante pouted, frisky as always._

_"Very well then. What do you propose?"_

_The perty twin brimmed with delight, bringing the now milky drink to his brother who clearly looked disinterested in his methodology. When it comes to Vergil, guessing is the only option available for Dante. The younger sibling was never too successful in mind games and since Vergil wasn't giving any positive signs, he felt absolutely helpless. 'A hint'll do, dammit Verge,' Dante would do almost anything for a sign now._

_"That's not what you wanted, isn't it, brother?" Vergil quipped as he combed a hand through his brother's hair. Since patience paid off this time, Dante immediately took a sip of the diabetic drink and engaged straight for his brother's lips. Their mouths engulfed into each other's warmth, draining the liquid out instantly. The aftertaste of overly-sweetened coffee danced around, wet sticky tongues fighting for dominance in the heat of lust. __The standing twin glided smoothly from the side of his cathedra and raised one leg over Vergil's thighs. Gently crawling over both legs, Dante sat on his brother's thighs, keeping the action consistently growing. The elder of the twins licked the sides of his brother's lips before going back into his mouth, deepening their sugary kiss. The younger half impatiently tore open Vergil's shirt, causing a few buttons to pop as he reached into his body. __He caressed across his chest and moved around his rosy spot hesitantly. Dante then __mischievously _pinched his nipples, eliciting a sharp hiss from his brother. After breaking the kiss, he ran his tongue along his brother's _lean neck as he _pulled his shirt apart, biting into his shoulder drawing blood.

_Vergil gasped at the plunge, senses heightened in the mixture of pleasure and pain. __Perhaps the twinge was seraphic; he enjoyed these blood-oozing love marks his brother chewed on more than he could have guessed._

_"You're really into, you know, into these plays?" The elder twin panted softly. Dante cocked an eye up and reluctantly stopped for a second, gathering bits and pieces of his thoughts to respond._

_"Hey, I don't have a kink for hurting you, baby. But doing this from time to time does reconnect our distance—or rather, fill up our passion__…_ right?" He replied with a chuckle, feeling pure honesty in his words.

_Vergil shivered with mirth as he felt Dante continued lapping blood from the sore bites. Though the wounds healed almost instantly, the blood concentrated beneath pale skin peeked through like roses on his canvas. Shifting down from his shoulder, Dante's ass bumped against the edge of the table as he stretched out like a cat, nibbling the piquant spot over soft material._

_Dante worked on his ministrations, tugging and pulling his brother's nipple as a wave of sensation tickled down his spine. The raging hard-on cramped in Vergil's jeans was dying for some attention as well. He ran a hand down Dante's back, caressing his waistline before feeling up his round ass eagerly. Soft mewls escaped Dante's lips as he gyrated his hips in rhythmic fashion, equally hard from within._

_"You might already know in plain fact that it isn't really my tongue to perorate but what I'm implying in your American speech is, can you just hurry up already? Somewhere needs your attention badly."_

_Deviant, Vergil tipped Dante's chin up as he slid his fingertips across his brother's lower lip. Intuitively, the younger twin let his brother play before parting his lips, taking the digits into his mouth. The moist atmosphere was anticipatory. Dante licked the slick digits and sucked on the tip of them. Vergil worked his fingers in his brother's experienced mouth, feeling his tongue thrusting against his fingers. Despite enjoying the oral rape, Dante's eyes quickly glanced over his brother's crotch to be pleased that the bulge had significantly grown__. Releasing the digits, he slid off onto the floor as he began to undo the fly on Vergil's pants, mouth watering at the impending sight._

_"Getting impatient, brother?"_

_Vergil tensed at the family address—the word 'brother' was intoxicating and sinful, incestuous so to speak. It always hits a magical spot whenever Dante calls him that. "Well, perhaps this heat is killing so I really need to cool it off. You will let me, won't you?"_

_"Oh baby… do I have a choice?" Dante smirked, aroused by the minute Vergil decided to play dirty._

_As he reached into his pants, he gripped and pulled the hard member out in the exposed air. Squeezing it tightly, he jerked his skin up and down painfully slow. The elder twin released short breaths, keeping his voice soft. He could feel his muscles tensing with each stroke his brother administered as it stiffened in heat. Dante felt the throbbing pulse directly hitting his palm and continued pumping the hard flesh; the sight of his brother's lust excited him as he licked his salivating inner lips hungrily._

"_Just how much longer are you going to make me wait?" Vergil questioned and glanced down, tone wearing impatience now. As much as Dante would love to continue teasing him, he couldn't hold his hunger any further either. He took the hard erection and with expertise, engulfed the hot member in his mouth._

_It's that sensation. It's the same feeling that no one else could possibly give Vergil other than Dante. That tongue rolling around his shaft, teeth ever so lightly scraping his skin, and the back of Dante's throat that he could feel his tip touching. It was the tightness absorbing his flesh that his brother sucked so hard, Vergil could audibly hear the slick wetness slapping. While he submerged in pleasure, he ran a free hand to the back of Dante's head, feeling the movement his brother repeated to devour his hardness. __Dante squinted his eyes upwards, stealing a peek at his brother periodically, getting excited by that sex-starved face of his. He slipped a hand into his own pants and grabbed his hard-on, giving his erection some form of love. Then increasing the pace, he bobbed his head to the speed of his hand until he tasted some precum spilling in his mouth. He lapped the thick fluid up from his lips and stared at the vein-popping member he released from his mouth, all while stroking his painful shaft recklessly._

_"Already?" he sneered victoriously._

_"You're one to say." Vergil tilted his head to the side of the chair, staring at his brother's boner from the lower corner of his eye, panting deeply._

_Almost buckling over, Dante crawled over his brother's thighs once more and gently sat against his painful attention. He looked straight into Vergil's eyes and kissed his brother with a mouth full of his very own lubricant. He allowed the stiff cock to slide between his ass cheeks, grinding for his own needs._

_"Fuck me." Dante whispered, lust filling his voice._

_"Looks like you're getting more impetuous than me."_

_"I'm already later than usual if you'd notice."_

_"Is it better if I just strike the conversation as dirty as the way you do?" Vergil laughed._

_"Straight up like a dirty martini, baby." Carefully, he carried his weight to pull his brother's member forth to his own before dropping back onto his thighs. Tightly gripping with both hands, he frotted both erections in a slow rhythm as he moaned in wanton fashion. The mixture of their wetness dripped into his hands, resulting the slippery hot surface which Dante slid their cocks easily in. Grinding his member against his brother's, he moaned softly into Vergil's ears, purring while threading on his ear lobes._

_"Come on… …"_

_"Tell me what to do, exactly the way you want me to do it."_

_Reaching his hands to his younger brother's back, Vergil pulled him into his torso while he ran a finger in between the crack of Dante's fleshy ass. He gently caressed him, slithering up and down along his valley. The younger twin shuddered slightly—sensation creeping onto the surface of his skin like goosebumps flaking. Vergil then slid his hand downwards, closely to his opening which twitched hungrily. He slipped two digits into the soft savanna and scissored sideways, stretching the tender flesh shaking from pure pleasure within. Dante purred at the light thrusts, digging his fingers into his brother's shoulders in attempts to stop himself from cumming. He stifled his needy moans with pressed lips while he leaned against his ever-so-cunning brother._

"_I want you t-to-fuck me up so ba—badly…" So hopelessly Dante mewled as he licked the inner flesh of his brother's ears, sucking on his ear lobes._

_Smirking behind Dante unnoticed, Vergil yanked his brother's jean down harshly, exposing his naked rear in plain sight. Then seizing his shaft, he ricocheted the movement quickly and allowed the hardness to climax into pain. He watched his brother hissed in pain—unable to release as much as he wanted to. He gripped it so hard that he could feel the pulsation against his palm. This time, it was impossible to hold back the shrill that Dante tried desperately to hide earlier._

"_VERGE!" Dante pleaded, voice dripping of sex, "Goddammit do it now or else…!"_

"_Only if you promised that you'll only belong to me… No one else, but me." Vergil forced a confession confidently, lifting his brother and shifting his ass against his eager cock. Dante gyrated his ass, trying to thrust it down but his persistent brother fought against his need._

_"Fuck you, Vergil."_

_"With pleasure, but not until you say the word."_

_Gritting his teeth, Dante bit his lips excessively as he tried to dissipate the embarrassment before spitting out the words, "This hole is yours… and yours forever… … happy now?"_

_Before Dante could wait for a respond, Vergil pushed him down dead straight into his prostate. The young demon groaned in pain, unprepared for the sudden penetration. He squirmed at the burn and tried to relax to accommodate to the intrusion. That hadn't been too difficult since it felt so good once he had adjusted to it, with __all the discomfort diminishing instantly. _His ass constricted onto Vergil's shaft, making movement seemed impossible as the intensity stretched him sideways, up-down-ways or in every known way.

_"Still as tight as it has always been."_

_"Shut up and… mo-move… already!" Dante __desperately _demanded, bucking his ass securely.

_Agreeing intuitively, Vergil placed his hands onto his younger twin's waist and began thrusting upwards. He rammed into his brother's prostate, locked in his tight heat again and again. His stamina kept him on a steady pace while he located the bundle of nerves that sent sparks of satisfaction flashing across Dante's mind. He slammed his thick member in and out of his brother's delicious ass, eyes watching him writhed beneath his figure. Dante shivered in the malicious thrusts, shrilling at the top of his voice for more. Thoughts whited out as he closed his eyes, need growing against the rising tension filling him up. He rode ferociously against Vergil's throbbing cock, grabbing his __shoulders to keep his body straight_.

_"Faster Verge…! Harder…!"_

_"It's not… so simple doing it this direction… if you must know…"_

_In response to Vergil's protest, Dante reluctantly crawled up from his stance and got off from his brother. He could feel his lower half twitching slightly when he detached from their binding union, muscles burning in heat. With legs giving out on their own, he barely removed his body from Vergil when he clambered over the table top, back resting against the cool surface as he brought his legs up, spreading them wide open enticing. Showing no signs of embarrassment, he curled his index finger as a signal for his beloved brother to come and take him in whichever way he wanted._

_"Such eagerness, __…"_

_Vergil's voice dropped low, hoarse at the sight of his willing brother as he thrusted his hips forward back into the tight velvet heat. Dante clenched his fist tightly, feeling the violation erupting inside him. Vergil sped up mercilessly, hitting his sweet spot over and over again, driving tears of satisfaction, gasps of pure lust out of Dante. This was the Dante Vergil savored; all unraveled and undone before him, losing all his ability to think, and reduced to his very primal instinct. His younger brother__ grabbed the side of his arms, _moaning louder each time he pounded in. His eyes shut tightly, redness flushed across his cheeks as his lips pried apart where his voice filled the air. 

"_Yes…! More Vergil! Harder!"_

_"You're getting… so tight…" Vergil groaned slightly, sinking his teeth into Dante's milky skin._

_As the excitement escalated, the thrill spiraled out of control when he pushed Dante's legs over his head, exposing his ass in full view while he climbed on the table top over him. Kneeling over, he shoved deeper into his brother's heat and was subsequently rewarded by his lustful cries. Vergil could barely contain his shallow breaths with his penetrations but that wasn't going to stop him from indulging the feast. Dante dug his fingers into the wooden furniture, scrapping the material as his heartbeat raced wildly from the rising need. His legs shook from the thrusting impact, through his body, until the whole table moved violently along with his beat._

"_Oh fuck! You're th-best Verge! So goooood…! God—do it more…!"_

"_…uhm!"_

_The elder twin clutched his partner's ankles and continued rocking faster. He could feel his limit approaching, eager to drain every bit of his energy into his sexy brother. Almost tearing up Dante's insides, he rammed in and out with every ounce of his remaining strength, breaths huffed at irregular speeds as he struggled to watch his brother come undone._

_Fucking Dante never felt this good in a long time, though it was already at its best every time._

_"I'm-m coming…__Ver-vergil! M-mhmm…! __T-tou—"_

_The hoarse huffs escaping from Dante's thin red lips concluded how close he was coming to. Granting his brother's request even before he could complete his sentence, Vergil brought his right hand clasping around his naked brother's shaft and began running it up and down. The gesture elicited short pants from the younger twin as he bucked his ass tighter while trying to jerk in tune to his brother's movements. Catching Dante biting his lower lip sent chills down Vergil's spine as his grip tightened around the leaking member, speeding up as a matter of fact._

_"Verge— I-I can't—"_

_"Together-now… Dan—" and before he could conclude, thick white cum shot into Dante's hot ass as the younger devil screamed at his brink. He held tightly to Vergil, allowing the hot fluids to fill him up fully. Giving up the last of his restraint, ropes of creamed satisfaction released from the younger twin's cock. The substance decorated all over Dante's pectoral abs as he smeared it with the tip of his fingers before licking his own taste. As the last of his release had been milked dry, Vergil dislodged from Dante's body and lied on top of his torso._

_Dante hugged the warmth that embraced him as he gently kissed his brother's lips._

"_I love you Vergil… no matter how bastard you can be at times."_

_Vergil grinned, as though well-complimented. "I love you too brother. And I will always be right by your side."_

"_Hey what's wrong… something bothering—"_

_When Dante looked up, everything was gone. The furniture, books, chairs, coffee, sugar—everything was gone. More importantly, Vergil had vanished too. Darkness extended from the corners nearer to him. Heat had subsided and a flush of cool air brushed across his naked body. Nothing was there, only him._

_He held his legs to his body and wept softly. Silence contained the arena._

'_You're mine Dante… and only mine…'_

Cold sweat broke open and trickled from the older demon's forehead. The sun still shinning in the skies and the buzzing of railway tracks running through his ears. However the peaceful scenery did not settle the discomfort perturbing the hunter.

_'The hell…?'_ He questioned himself, staring out the window at stone structures coming into his sight.

This place looked exactly the way they left it there, seemed like no one had the money to rebuild everything back from scratch. Even the skies looked as yellow as that day they parted. The train started to slow down and soon the station appeared in sight. Dante stood up from his seat and walked towards the cabin doors to exit the heavy vehicle.

The scent of stale air rushed into his nose as he walked into the central station. The sex-hyped dream still plagued his mind while he deciphered where to find the kid that he just missed. Lurking around the station seemed nugatory, but he lacked the idea on where to begin with either.

As he was about to head for the nearest motel available, the back view of a familiar acquaintance plunged into his view.

"Oh crap."

* * *

Nothing better than seeing something familiar.


	6. Episode 06: Regrets

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry. **

* * *

Dust. And debris filled the spaces in the void in between.

What could have been better than to see the familiar face of another fellow companion? It appears that this one had flown a couple miles in order to see the same person whom she had started out with.

"Hi Dante."

"What the hell Trish? If you knew you're going to be along the way here, you could have been a little more generous and given me a free lift. That could have possibly spared me from riding a scrappy train 'cause some fox tried to attack me in disguise."

She couldn't help but release a little chuckle from her exhausted face at Dante's annoyed blabberings. It had been a while watching her favorite companion ranting away about the pesky encounters he bumped into. Despite the thought to keep him whining endlessly, she decided to out the additional information she had discovered to the poor boy whom had had a tough time out on his own earlier the day.

"Well, can't be babysitting you the whole time since mother here had outsourced a very promising lead."

Cocking an eyebrow in doubt, the older demon sneered and walked towards her.

"You're gonna buy me some beer, pizza and then fill in all the answers in the spaces provided alright, mother?"

The partner grinned proudly as they walked away into the center of the town.

"So, what's this big discovery you've found anyways?"

The duo found a quiet inn which was still running business in the night and settled in quickly. A homely greeting welcomed by the bachelor running the place set them at ease. However that little modest gesture wasn't about to appease Dante as he slumped onto the wooden seat heavily. Trish took a seat facing the devil hunter while trying to get some orders taken whereas the latter grunted away.

"You seriously need to work on your human personality."

"I think I've been always good at it—at least I let strangers use the bathroom. So now tell me, what have you found out?"

Apparently his discontent was resurfacing again.

"I went to Rome the last two days after finding out where the two lovebirds had settled down."

"And how exactly did you even find that out?" Dante questioned a justification, chugging down a full pint of beer quickly.

"Lady gave me a tip off, saying she saw the girl somewhere in the vicinity. But only the girl, the boy was nowhere in sight. It wasn't her style to get involved in other people's businesses, but she was rather worried that another similar uproar might break out due to _our negligence_ thus she gave me a telegram."

"Telegram? Since when?"

"It came a day after you left, hadn't the chance to exactly tell you." She winked flirtatiously at the devil hunter, and also at the bachelor who delivered the 15-inch pizza to their tiny table along with more beer. The lonely owner seems to be visually stripping Trish with the lewd looks he threw at her. She wasn't quite bothered by it since men everywhere had pretty much similar behavior. And likewise, she wasn't keen to spot any fun with the bachelor, with or without clothes on.

Taking her distraction seriously, Dante snarled at the desperado who hid behind his counter anxiously.

"Geez, cool it. You need to relax." She patted his shoulders gently.

"Then just let me get through with this." There was some severity in his tone, almost as heavy as Vergil would have sounded.

"Hmm, anyways I made a trip with the map I was given. I found the girl pretty easily and made her talk."

Dante stopped devouring the pizza on his table and heaved a heavy gulp of beer which slightly drooled down the sides of his mouth. He then crudely wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and lit a cigarette from his container, inhaling the toxic.

"When I questioned her about her hero boyfriend, she went completely silent. I waited though, till she was ready to talk. All she said in the end was '_I had to let him go'_."

Both paused at the same time, as though waiting for the other to speak.

"She had to let him go? What does she even mean?" Dante wore dissatisfaction evidently.

"What she actually meant was she believed she was holding the boy back from something, or someone. A calling, she said. Faith's calling. So I figure if it's someone he's looking for, he's in love with this person."

And the cigarette slipped down the corner of Dante's lips as he stared in blind shock at Trish.

"Are you seriously kidding me? We went so far out just for a chance that the boy might be in heat? Was that a lucky shot or—"

"No, she said so herself. She found this burnt letter in the boy's room. The contents are something like what you would call a love message or something like that. Boy caught her reading, gave her a good yell, snatches the paper back, and that basically sums up the importance of the not-to-be-known-by-others' letter."

Slurping down the rough beer from his mug, Dante took another slice of his pizza while he, inevitably, felt cheated coming out for this task.

"So Dante, anything you wanna tell me?"

"Wha—?" He stopped at her question, puzzled.

"You'd think you can hide it?" The sarcastic remark meant business.

"I am so confused right now."

She folded her arms and stared at him matter-of-factly, expecting no less than a truthful confession coming up. It took awhile for his recant to strike him at an instant with regards to his encounter earlier the day.

"Oh. You mean that? Yeah I bumped into the kid on my way here, but we parted before we even got a chance to talk."

"So you met him but you didn't tell him his girl's finding him?"

"Hey I was recovering from that nifty battle with that demon, I'd say it just naturally slipped my mind. Cut me some slack will ya? I did yell at him though, not that any of it went across."

"Actually that's not what I'm asking about. I'm talking about the last night we spent in Fortuna in the previous trip."

A second pause. This time, Dante's eyes zoned tangibly with disbelief. He stopped and stoned into space almost immediately. Trish scrutinized her partner's expression and knew she hit the jackpot.

"I remembered you left the motel in the middle of the night and only came back at dawn a few hours later. So do you wanna explain that? Oh and if you did ever went demon slaying, it must be _so_ _easy_ without all your gears, wasn't it?"

"N-nowhere."

"Do I look like I'm five?"

Silence filled the arena as Dante dwelled into reminiscence. Broken flashbacks replayed back and forth in his mind and devoured him. They had no doubt shattered all the feelings, relationship and trust bonded overnight—breaking all odds and tearing down the walls of uncertainty. Indisputably, in one night.

"It's… it's nothing worth paying attention to."

"Well as far as I'm concerned, you looked listless when you stepped in at dawn. Listless with a stench of sex."

The elder remained still.

"Truth is, the kid only found you because I told him where you were."

Dante raised his head, confused by her comments.

"It has always been a routine for you, hasn't it? Returning to the one place where you can still relieve before every mission."

The blonde smiled gently this time, completely aware of her partner's habits.

"So I told him to go to where Temen-Ni-Gru once was. And from the conversation I had with him, he is looking for you Dante. If the girl says he's searching for faith's calling and he is looking for you, there is no need for other questions."

A soft breeze whizzed across in the dead of the night. Silence continued to grow until it became too deafening to bear.

"DANTE!" Trish hammered the side of her fist on the table, cracking her knuckles loudly. Patience needed an answer and she needed it now.

"You better start talking before I—"

"I messed him up."

Trish remained unspoken, waiting for his story to continue telling.

"I don't know what I was thinking then. The familiar scent kept resurfacing in my head, the scent of a familiar shadow…"

"Shadow?" Trish pondered aloud, having the worst kind of rough idea to where it was heading. "Tell me it isn't who I think it is."

Dante dropped his head low, refused to recall his impulsion and shame in fact. The moment of spur had gotten more confusing than he could have imagined in his life. Everything seemed to have fallen apart. Even his soul apparently had too.

"When I caressed the porcelain skin with my hands, it hadn't felt this real over the last decade. I couldn't stop the addiction. It was those same blue eyes and voice in the same heat. And the more I touched it, the more I couldn't resist it—"

"SNAP OUTTA IT DANTE! VERGIL'S DEAD!" Trish got out of her chair and shook Dante violently, jamming signals into his incoherent thoughts of confusion. Her cocky companion being like this worried her more than the suicidal acts he committed back home. He flushed at the talk of his intimate sex, occasionally stopping into further recalls.

"WAKE UP DANTE—" She yanked him so hard that he pushed her arms away in return.

"DAMN IT TRISH! I KNOW THAT! You don't have to tell me something I already know!" And just with that, his tears surrendered incandescently as his thoughts sprawled into a painful streak of sadness.

Trish couldn't deny the amount of trauma Dante had gone through since the day Vergil had left him in this human world. It all rebounded back harder than expected and the wound never closed up ever since. Slapping the truth across his face only gashed the incision wider, burning the sore as real as it had always been. If Dante had never in his life been scared of anything, this was the only thing enough to send him running from forever. He would run from this memory, never wanting to be reminded of ever again. Especially that moment when he stabbed Rebellion into the heart of…

She stretched her arms out wide and embraced the mature man, chasing all the coldness away. The older man shivered in her arms even though the lament had slowly stopped on its own. It was too late to be crying over spilled milk now.

"Dante… what exactly happened?"

"I didn't know how it started… That night when I woke up, I could feel my devil taking hold of my mind. It felt like it was triggering on its own unconditionally. But before I could hold it down, I was already right in front of his room. When he opened the door, the devil inside lost it…"

Trish tilted her head down and looked at the contrite hunter. He had stopped bawling his eyes out, regaining most of his composure. Though it felt like it had only been a few seconds, Trish was glad she got to comfort Dante even for a few minutes this time. She pulled her partner's head close to her chest as he rested on her soft flesh. They didn't felt like how he used to indulge in them. Or maybe, it was nullifying into a mother's touch. For once, her face gave him peace long lost since he was young.

"And then when I—

"It's okay. You don't have to fill in the details if you don't want to. But why Nero?" She mused for a second but instantly realized the connection. "Yamato?"

Dante knew it was wrong to succumb to impulse though it wasn't technically _him _who did it. However allowing his devil to run him over wasn't excusable for the mess he created as well. In fact, losing charge of his devil with his years of experience was humiliating. The last time it actually happened was the moment when he had awakened it and ever since then, he had never lost it once. That aside, there was still the question of _'why'_; _why_ did his devil side reacted like this—more importantly, _why_ did it choose Nero.

"I know it's wrong. I mean, I even took the exit. The kid has his girlfriend and I—eeyerm, never mind that. If the kid has to throw his anger at me, it's all good. I can let him have a few punches on me if it makes him happy. Then we can move on, and things like that will eventually be forgotten. Hell, he's _normal_ to begin with. The girl must be misunderstanding something, the kid loves her."

"That's on your retrospective right? What if the kid really likes you? Or maybe he's just as confused as you are."

"My god Trish, do you realize what you're suggesting here?"

"Come on Dante, you simply can't take the chances out of it I mean. The girl looked pretty serious. She wouldn't have left Nero if she wasn't highly convinced the boy fell in love with someone else. You're the only _other_ one in the picture right now."

The mature man flushed frustratingly, almost convinced by what she had just deduced. It no doubt made some sense on a proof-fool level, but logically it couldn't have been that case. There's no hope for it.

_Hope? Since when did hope come into the picture?_

"Point being since we're under paid circumstances, we have to find him anyways. What do you suggest then?"

"If he really loves you, he'll find you. Just like how you found him the first time."

Trish released a slight grin on her face and patted on Dante's head. She was certain.

* * *

Next coming up, Nero's travel. How far has he made it?


	7. Episode 07: Help by Hand

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry.**

* * *

Stained. Dust specks tainted the navy trench coat fluttering in the wind.

Nero stopped by at a petrol diner for a quick breakfast. The boiling sun snapped the clouds apart and blazed its majestic heat all around. Perspiration trickled down from the forehead of the ex-Order member as he made some adjustments to his recent repair. With a piece of sandwich clasped in between his mouth, he removed his coat and placed it on his bike seat whilst refueling his vehicle.

He managed to pass through two states and was halfway through his journey to Fortuna. He had been travelling overnight without any unnecessary breaks. Along the mileage, he had plenty of time to think, especially the reason to find Dante. There was too much to ask, especially about that night.

As he was about to finish refueling his machine, the loud collision of guns and carnage sounded across the empty highway. Other than the fuel points he had passed by previously, he hadn't seen anyone along this steep road while whisking through it. Taking bigger bites from his meal, he quickly downed the cold sandwich and rode towards the direction of the liveliness.

The young punk sped downhill intensely through the narrow single lane before entering into a vast area of forestry. Through the structures of growing wood, he noticed an all-too-familiar group of scarecrows circulating round a specific spot, launching their attacks. Adrenaline pumping and brilliance basking from his lips, Nero was dying to get into some action since his limbs were all numb from the overnight riding. What better chances than this?

Pulling his lady from his back holster, he charged straight towards the host. However when he was approaching closer to the parade, the puppeted demons were, unexpectedly, blown afar by an explosion erupting from its epicenter. From the distance left in between, he noticed a woman holding a green piece of armory shooting the creatures around. She displayed professionalism in handling these cakes. Swift movements, quick steps, and a veteran level of shot accuracy—she was almost as good as he was—_almost_.

Standing in face of this elite, there were a few which attempted to retreat and headed in Nero's direction. In anticipation to that, the woman swung her heavy weapon, which was apparently a hefty piece of rocket launcher, over her shoulders and shot towards the escaping lot. What she left out was, deliberate or not, Nero was in her scope of affected carnage as well.

The shell shed and dripped in exploding intensity with onslaught. Nero skid his bike downwards across the ground to avoid the incoming discharge but didn't so successfully halt his bike just in time. In order to pull himself away from being inflicted by the massive damage, he abandoned his bike and kicked his body away from the seat, allowing the inertia to thrust him backwards whilst the bike collided full force into one of the aging trees. The ex-Order member picked himself up, grumpy and evidently pissed, waved Blue Rose in all directions firing at the remaining standing demons as they crumble and fall, dissipating into dirt and dust leaving no remains.

"This is just great." Nero walked to what-seemingly-looks-like the remains of his bike, which was nothing more than a piece of burnt charred now. The damage his automobile took was beyond repair and anyone smart enough would have just used the cash for a new one. Unfortunately for the half demon, cash flow was being a menstruating bitch at the moment. Before he could even think about getting the person responsible to pay for his vehicle, a set of barrels were placed against the back of his head and honestly, he didn't like the feeling of it.

"Demon, ready to meet your maker?" The heterochromic female dispensed not an ounce of mercy in her words. She plunged the tip of her heavy weapon against the ground, her arm holding it in position as she pointed her pistol at the young demon with the other. She wasn't too sure about this one, but she rather take no chances.

"Do you usually talk before you kill?" Nero taunted.

"What?"

"Because if it is, you're making a big mis—" and the agile demon slayer back-kicked her launcher off the ground as the female slipped slightly off balance. Nero immediately picked up speed and kneed the higher end of the weapon into her face as she screamed agitatedly from the impact. The young lad leaped into the air and reached for the active launcher that was spinning all round with the tip of a blade. In one swift, he grabbed the monster and dropped back onto the ground, arms stretched to the bottom of it pointing the bayonet at the face-bleeding woman. "—take."

She quirked an eyebrow after getting a clean look at the demon finally. He looked barely twenty and alarmingly resembled someone too much.

"You… I haven't seen moves like that in a while." She wiped the excess blood from her face, bruised and slightly swollen around her cheeks. As she flicked the remains of her blood on the ground, her free hand silently slipping to the back, pulling a tiny revolver from its holder strapped to the back of her neat white striped hot pants.

"I won't do that if I were you." He slightly lowered the weapon, well aware of her intentions.

She sighed and bent her arms outwards, a gentle sign of consented defeat.

"Okay, you got me there. It's been a while since I've been hit, moreover being kneed in the face by my own Kalina Ann."

"Don't sweat it, you'll be getting more soon." Apparently his choice of words was directly channeled by the anger beneath.

"Watch it. Getting hit once doesn't mean anything. And also, I'm trying to strike a friendly conversation here in case you haven't noticed. But if you wanna have a go again, you ain't gonna get this lucky a second time."

Her eyebrows sunk into her facial expression because this kid was marching into no-bounds territory. Then flashback flashed across her mind, kinda like déjà vu—she had bumped into someone like that; a little unsure, a little angry, a little boastful, and a little impulsive too. Well in any case, she was ready for a rematch if the kid wanted to have some manners taught. She pulled two revolvers out from her back and pointed them straight ahead.

However, the punk just threw her trusty companion back at her and walked towards his bike. The drop in his attitude took her slightly aback as she watched him walking to his vehicle, kicking the new member of the junkyard. It didn't take her long to realize what the kid was so angry about.

"Oh… Sorry 'bout that." She sounded almost remorseful.

"… Now I probably have to triple my journey time." Nero exasperated.

"Where are you heading for?"

"Fortuna."

She walked over to the young lad and patted on his shoulder very earnestly. The half demon turned and was surprised to receive a genuine smile from his adversary.

"I'm heading there too. I'll give you a lift. It's my bad after all to being with."

The young lad's face remained unchanged, but his irked aura was gradually losing its form. She took the hint and signaled the boy to follow her trail. She parked her ride not fifty feet away from their fighting coliseum—a shiny black sport-touring bike perfect for distance riding. She set her Kalina Ann along the side of her bike since she was going to a passenger for the first—make that second time in history.

"Nice."

She glanced at the boy admiring her ride. It was comforting to know someone who appreciated the beauty of her baby—it seriously has been a while since she ever spent time talking to anyone properly besides slaying demons.

"Thanks hun." She smiled, gesturing for the boy to come over.

He slipped sideways onto the comfortable seat (well, in comparison to his own vehicle) and adjusted his sword slightly to avoid accidentally cutting anything in any case. She saw the kid maneuvering the handle of something behind his back and was once again having goosebumps crawling all over her skin from the resemblance.

"Say, you resemble someone all too familiarly in the back of my memory." She commented aloud as she started the engine. The vehicle hollered in the silence before it purred into a coaxing tempo, ready to light the way.

Nero laughed audibly in the noise, wondering if the comment was genuine or likely a ridicule. "Really? I certainly hope his name doesn't begin with a D and ends with an E."

Then immediately, she turned and stared blatantly at him in shock. "How the hell—"

Now Nero was gaping back at her in plain stupefaction.

"YOU KNOW DANTE?" the both of them yelled at each other contemporaneously. Then they synchronically stopped and paused for a moment, before starting to laugh at each other with an acquaintance mustered by this legendary… asshole.

"Oh my god no wonder my skin's been shedding goosebumps everywhere since I saw that face of yours! I could have suspected a thing or two with the hair, built, skills, and weapons you possess but I didn't wanna take my chances unless I'm one-hundred-percent sure. Tell me, you're not his long lost son or something, are you?"

"If I were his son, I'd rather hang myself."

The female exploded in hysterical laughter, beginning to like this boy by the minute with his complete honesty. "I hardly can imagine him being a father. The poor kid's probably gonna have to eat pizza till he's elementary."

Nero chuckled a little—looks like the devil hunter is all too famous for the things he's done.

"Sorry for the late introduction, I'm Mary. But you can just call me Lady like the others do." She held her hand out, genuine and calm.

"Nero." He approached shaking her hand firmly with his human arm. That was only then Lady noticed the devil arm that Nero had on his right arm.

"Nice arm, I hope it's natural."

"What do you mean?" Looking bewildered at her comment.

"Well… I've seen humans trying to master demon powers and you know, injected themselves with some of it and then it turns really ugly." Her sentence trailed softly at the end as memories of her father cruised through her mind temporarily. Nero took hint in the sudden change of her expression, pretty sure that it must have been a personal experience she was speaking of.

"Nah, I was born with it. Half demon they say, not half human. I used to question why was I born different, but now I'm glad I am." Despite not being one who often share his part of the story, he hoped it would help sooth her little bit.

Lady looked at the young boy in her back seat, some part in her heart thankful that he was way different from Dante. He had little words, little intentions and perhaps little tact, but he was honest and she liked him that way. She rolled her bike back slightly, releasing the security clutch and stabilized the vehicle with her feet. The ex-Order member adjusted his back and sat cozily in his position, glimpsing around the hazy environment.

"It's a little early to be getting so misty, isn't it?"

"It has been like this for a while. Lots of wind, dirt and dust scattering the area. Might be some new demons—which is why I am heading to Fortuna to meet up with an old acquaintance of mine."

"Dante?" Nero asked as he recalled the earlier episode with the bluish vixen he had never dealt with before. Her capability to harness wind placed her in the rank charts amongst the Blitz creatures. He remembered the rampage and destruction all over the train, as well as the danger the elder hunter plunged into. It required more than the usual case of shooting them dead, a bit of tact would suffice a safer plan round this new nemesis.

"Not exactly… but she works with Dante."

"She?" _Alarming_, Nero thought to himself; amazed by the fact that the demon hunter actually worked with someone. Or rather, someone was able to put up with his nonsense.

"Yeah, without her around, you probably can't get that lazy ass to do anything. And I still need him to pay me back every single penny he had ever owed me. She's the only reason why I haven't shot Dante in the face."

"So I guess she's someone important to Dante huh?"

"Vice versa I'd say. They can't do without each other somehow."

Nero paused for a moment, oblivious to the change in his own expression. Perhaps he almost lost a foothold of himself—was it shock, or disappointment—and so he quickly retreated in silent muse.

_Important? Can't do without? Is she fucking kidding me? If that asshole already has someone he can't do without, why the hell did he even do that? If he is fucking screwing around with me, I'll show him who he's screwing with._

"Something wrong, Nero?"

Shaken abruptly in his thoughts, he recovered his nonchalance and looked at Lady. He didn't want anyone to know about the fiasco that night; he wanted to keep it unknown until he had settled scores with a particular asshole. "Nothing much. Say, about what you said, I think I might have a couple of information for you. I've stumbled into some unfamiliar demon along my journey here. Looks kinda like a vixen; long claws, serpent eyes, blue skin and it controls wind. Any idea? Any piece of information would be useful now so it was better to share any intel for viable ones in return.

"I think I have some information about your little encounter too…"

Lady pushed her bike forward and sped downhill as they began exchanging information with each other along the journey.

* * *

It's good to have acquaintance along the way, isn't it?


	8. Episode 08: Vientos in Fortuna

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry.**

* * *

Speed. The duo cruised along the highway with bursting velocity.

It was not all without risks since they had encountered the same demons along the way. The multiplication of the cerulean virago was abundant and the comparable style of pack battle that of the Frost demons was complex. Despite the prior engagement with the witch, the element of wind was too unpredictable and many a times Nero had almost lost Lady in those close calls. Fortuitously, by a chance of wicked luck, Blue Rose always manages to score at the crucial points for victory. It was almost impossible to call it skills—it was downright luck.

The thin veil of clouds hanging on the sky tugged its drape apart, casting the dark empyrean sky with insignificant sparks hidden. Recent encounters left the young half demon weary but he remained alert, riveting through the forestation they skidded along. The vixens, also known as _Viento_, apparently moved into town due to the scarcity of protection and attention in the area. With the previous enrolment by Sanctus, the rest of world had closeted Fortuna into the depths of oblivion. The small province had seemingly been forgotten; a landmark disappearing from the eyes of the world and thus becoming a perfect inhabitation for demons that only needed to feed occasionally. By choice of feeding, it completely wipes the need to kill them so they can be _recycled_.

Although Nero had yet to personally encounter a recycling phase of a Viento, the description Lady filled him in was devastating—in human terms, that is.

There are basically two kinds of Viento; _Vientrose_—signifying the male population of the race. They are the hunters and will prey on all animals to humans, and sometimes other demons too. They are designed to kill with a stronger built that of a wolf and so they can stretch over ten feet in height effortlessly. A vientrose takes no delight in recycling humans because of their desire to kill, and therefore they will access to whatever that is convenient to their platter. Considerably a straightforward kind of demon, there is nothing to question about whatever they do other than to imbibe. Since they do not recycle, they rarely inhabit the current district.

The other half of the population will be the feline—_Vientes_. The biggest difference between a vientrose and a vientes will be its appetite. A vientes hardly kills so instead of that, they feed—namely, _recycle_. Vientes recycles on the longevity, or _alma_, of a creature. Since humans have a considerably long life expectancy, they naturally become the eminent source of consumption. Gender does not matter to a vientes. They often take human form to mingle among the race. Then with trickery, either through marriage or other resourceful measures, they will their victims into a complete state of trust towards them. Once they have their prey fully in their dominion, they form a pact with the chosen prey so their subconscious will be under their full control, whenever they need it be. This protocol is much different from mating, but too, consists of a ritualistic procedure to follow. Upon the descend of full moon, the vientes will have her victim hypnotized, or _paralyzed_, to do at will. She will sink her talons into the sides of her victim's ribs and break one of her nails into the core of the human body. This wicked article will conform into the sternum, causing it to discolor, a process known as branding. Upon doing so, it establishes a territorial proclamation that this human has been marked, _taken_. The agony is harrowing as the piercing conducted is raw damage. To complete the brand, she will then draw blood from beneath the pulse of the human's neck and ceremoniously drink from it for the first and last time. The wound will swell and sear over a couple of days, rendering the human helpless against the constant strikes of heat and shiver over days and night. The inability to fight for survival will no doubt kill the martyr shortly. However when fully recovered, the burn leaves behind a stigma similar to the wind mark on the chest of the creature. Recycling thence begins periodically, through the same method, impaling and extracting physically. The process has to be delicate because it is not without pain and bloodshed, but in repetition, it may eventually turn numb regardless. An average human is a good feed for about seven years. Once the alma has been consumed fully (or if the acclaimed victim fails to survive the brand), she will devour all remains of the corpse, including the tainted sternum. By ingurgitating the bone, the broken gash from her talons will heal and recapitulate to its full length.

Most of the viento the duo had encountered along the way were females no doubt. They appeared to have been starving for quite a while, which resulted in their frenzy to attack any meal that came lurking by. Unfortunately for them, they picked the wrong menu to choose from. The young slayer studied the information he gathered wisely, plotting strategies against these vixens.

"Do these vientes target demons for recycling as well?" Nero spoke abruptly.

"Yes. According to my information, demons are the best feeds because they can supplement them for life. Nevertheless, it is not so easy to subdue a fellow creature, which is why picking humans has proven otherwise. I have not come across any demon feeds so far, but if the population gradually starts to wipe out of Fortuna, they may resort to eventually."

"Has Fortuna been wiped clean?" There was a worry trailing low in the ex-Order member's sentence. If he had been concerned, there was only one person who fit that bill.

"Almost, I would say. Most of them had been marked, which is why I'm here." The bounty hunter took a quick glance at her watch, "We'll be in Fortuna in about half an hour or so. I hope you're hungry because I'm famished!"

The blue-clad half demon returned musing deeply in thought—anxiety flooding his mind as he recalled his encounter with the older male a day ago. A part of him was hesitant to meet him due to the memories, yet his other wanted answers badly; the answers and reasons he wanted to hear from Dante so much.

After that night, he had been abandoned shaken in the morning. The older demon was no longer in sight but the residue of his demonic aura continued to lurk in the room. Its eminence poured into the half demon's senses and caressed him to the roots of his sores maliciously. Surrendering to the deep bruises, cuts and aches surmounted all over his body, the young lad shivered and shuddered on blood-soaked sheets beneath. He curled in, embraced only by the warmth from his limbs, recalling the incident hours ago. Devoid surged dreadfully from the corners of his sapphire eyes as he clenched the sheets with his bringer bitterly. So much of the unexplained to happen in a blink of an eye—so were the questions… that needed answers to immediately.

_Before he loses faith… before…_

He again trembled at the reminiscence, a slab of revulsion compelling him into total wreckage. He almost felt fluids slipping off his tear ducts recurrently but quickly regained composure. There was more to do than sulking in lament now.

* * *

"How many has it been already?"

"By my count, twenty seven." Trish reloaded her pistols as the last vientes in the area collapsed and disintegrated.

"Can this get any worse? Not only did I lose the kid, I'm now stuck with a bunch of hunger-crazed foxes trying to hit on me. Damn, I feel like a superstar here." The silver-haired hunter rubbed the back of Ivory against the sides of his head, irritated by the audience awe. "I'm tired, let's hit the sack." And without further a do, he strutted away from the battle zone into a reticent alley.

Trish watched from behind as she followed shortly after. She had plenty to process, about Dante and the younger lad. The story that he had satiated her was too vague, or rather in her context, missing out some too-important contents. Somewhere instinctively, her gut uttered to her that the elder wasn't too certain about his story either.

Glancing at the broad shoulders of the seasoned hunter, she wondered how many times had they carried the sins, burdens, pains, and sorrows hidden silently in him. Reflections streamed into the past years of his livelihood. If he weren't out slaying demons, he would be soaking in women, beer and nicotine, bathing in bed and blood. She had seen the part of the woman league he took home. It was like porn on a 54" plasma TV only it's clearer, louder and broadcast _live_. Often she believed that the routine was kindred to taking sleeping pills, albeit not the lifestyle she would agree to. However after the long episodic interlude with the younger lad, the circumstances had declared at its worst when the sleaziness amplified at its peak. He was crippling his very will to participate any demon hunts, and frequently passed it on that _'it's not worth my time' _or _'I have chicks to dig so do you mind?_'.

_Something must have happened_, the blonde concluded for a fact that this was getting as close to the despair his beloved brother left him in.

The dark alley weaved into another isolated avenue with dim streetlights. The night was chilly and quiet, soulless and dusty. Most of the villagers they had come across in daytime had veils and hoods over their heads, clothed fully from top to bottom. The blemishes from the ill-faith religion undulated among those who still had stilted tiny hopes of belief. They would diminish from the sight of the foreignness for the fear of another similar outbreak happening all over. If the metropolis had been shunned by the world, its people had also shunned each other along with the evasion as well.

Along the invasion of the viento, the community spent most of their time indoors, trying to avoid being targeted—not knowing even if they had already been so. The approaches Trish spared were futile as they were greeted with hostility from all round.

"So what happens now?" The elder male stopped before the inn they put up for the night, inhaling the soothing poison in the wind.

"I gotta see to the end of my mission and besides, I'm waiting for someone."

"The girl?"

"She's not the only reason I'm here for." Trish's eyes dilated partially upon sensing the tension raising. They were not alone.

The demon hunter lost his cigarette, exhaling a long puff of the burnt tobacco leaves as he slid his babies from his back shooting across the sides of blonde, hitting a distant cry howling afar. His smile extended into satisfying grin, winking in the heat of collision. He dashed towards the end of the boulevard, clinking sounds of his pistols hollowing into stillness of the black sky. His companion followed suit, making it a point to watch his back though it was almost unnecessary. There was a homely touch to the scent of these defeated creatures, in the fray of their demonic indulgence.

* * *

Strong winds brewing scattered across the air, disheveling withered petals of leaves from swaying trees. The familiar scenery crept into the young lad's lids once more; the vista of somewhere he once belonged. Lady cruised her ride gently into the aghast village, searching for a decent eatery. Nero's eyes wandered across every piece of structure and rubble—the environment had deteriorated evidently since his departure. A grapple of guilt washed him thoroughly as he gritted his teeth in plain remorse.

"Am I too late? It's only slightly past twelve." Lady sighed disappointingly, stopping her vehicle in the courtyard.

"No one's open for business past eight here. This is an early town, and they fear the nights for obvious reasons." The blue-clad demon clambered off her vehicle, rubbing the numbness gathered on his hip.

"But I'm starving! I can't survive till morning like this. I'll find a place to lodge 'cause they'll have the food." She scrutinized the ancient buildings in the serenity, but none of them looked decent for the night. Or rather, they all looked exactly the same—either they are some abandoned apostles' nestling grounds otherwise they had to be churches. _Damn this religious city_, she couldn't help cussing from beneath.

"There. Beyond that alley, there should be a couple of stays available. Let's go." Nero pointed towards a dull alley and signaled the bounty hunter to follow. She hopped back onto her bike and meandered leisurely beside the punk.

"How do you know?" Looking surprised at the boy's navigation.

"This… this is my home."

* * *

I'm burning and casting the facts in stone so at least some mystic creature partaking the story leaves a name in the books. So yes a little closer, too close in fact just before truth comes to light. Just a little more before that alright? Let me build the tension.

I'm grateful for the reviews too.


	9. Episode 09: Brink of Faith

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry.**

* * *

"Hey Dante, I've been wanting to ask this for a long time."

"Hmm, took your time."

"What are you blabbering about?" Trish cocked at eyebrow at the smirking hunter.

"You finally couldn't keep your hands in your pants anymore, can't ya?" Dante laughed as he put the last vientes in the vicinity down.

"I'll consider if you decide to keep your crotch off Love Planet."

"Ouch babe, I can't ditch an entire forest for a tree now, can I?" Dante jested lightly, feeling a soft chill up his back in the windy night. The fight braved south of the inn and the partners-in-crime were taking their time pacing back.

"Seriously, will you listen to what I have to say?"

"Hit me." The older hunter took a pack of smokes out of his bum pocket and ignited the deadly fumes. He inhaled the bitterness intensely, watching the blonde gathering her coherent thoughts. _It's gonna be a long night_, feeling convinced.

"Have you… ever wondered if Nero was Vergil?"

The filter slipped off the corners of Dante's lips, who was almost boring holes into his accomplice's eyes. He had hoped she was joking for a second, but the only one who ever joked about anything under the sky was no doubt, unfortunately, only him. He hissed at the dirtied tobacco on the ground, lethargically pulling another from his canister, taking a quick puff to sooth his unnerving intensity.

"Do explain."

"Ever since I caught a glimpse of the kid outside the castle, I had been researching about his Devil Arms. And I have come across something that even the son of Sparda would have never guessed."

Dante glimpsed at the familiar wink—one that was well-known for exposing untold truths and stories since the beginning of their time. She was a master of guises, and had always successfully induced under the smelt of suspicious rouse. He stood silent, waiting for what could possibly hit him as bad as the death of Ver—_okay, scratch that_.

"During his battle with Angus, he restored Yamato and harnessed the image of Nelo-Angelo in his trigger. _'...a voice echoed "Power! Give me more power!"'_is what he said. Doesn't that remind you of someone?"

It took the blonde some distance before she realized the hunter had stopped in his tracks. The white-haired male stood dumbfounded, recalling the intermission he had with the punk during their missions. He had seen Yamato wielding in tune with the kid's arm and that shattering imagery of Nelo-Angelo. But it wasn't those physical qualms that had startled him, it was those words. He had heard a similar vow some time long ago, befitting to a particular enigma.

_I watched her die in front of us Dante… I don't ever want to be this weak again! I will embrace our legacy and our fate, for the strength of a demon and the will to protect. I'm sorry Dante… please forgive me—power! Give me more power—now go for I don't wish to hurt you—anything to protect—_

The voice of a crying child wailed in burning agony sent streaks of contrite down the elder's spine. That was too close, like a missing piece of a puzzle. He had his fair share of dubiety ever since their encounter but to have gone as far as this, Trish was determined to eradicate something. For good.

"Are you suggesting that the kid is Vergil's reincarnation?" He traipsed towards Trish, losing the usual laidback attitude.

"I can't say I'm right, but I have been factoring for sometime now. How many years has it been since Vergil's death? Too timely. Never mind the fact that he might be, what worries me more is the kid's ability to trigger only when he is in possession of Yamato. If memories can be contained, I believe they are retained in the Devil Arms. Almost like when you hold Agni and Rudra, you can hear and see their past. A veteran like yourself probably has no problem controlling them, but now we're talking about Yamato and we all know who his previous owner is. Devil Arms never will their loyalties from their owners once established, so what synchronizes Nero and Yamato is peculiar, albeit me having my guesses. Since we don't know if the kid might really be his reincarnation, we cannot furthermore risk the chances of Yamato taking control of his instincts."

It wasn't difficult piecing the fragments together, but the fact left behind would be the hardest to face. The demonic scent that the kid enveloped wasn't Vergil's… _was it_?

"It'll be easy if I can laugh outta this."

"I don't think you're able to this time, Dante."

"It sounds pretty crazy if the kiddo is as you say. Hmm, but I gotta say... he's pretty angsty. How about we continue this over some pizza? Could use a little food here after the party bash." The elder hunter snugged his hands to the back of his head, signalling Trish to follow suit.

"This is serious, Dante. The only reason I'm concern about this is because I'm concern about you."

The grown man continued whistling as he walked down the isle with a skip in his steps, only thinking about pizzas sliding down his throat later.

"It'll be so damn selfish if you'd been unknowingly drawn to this kid just because he might be a shadow of Vergil."

"Hey, when did I ever—"

"Then how about explaining why you crept into the kid's room and make a mess outta him?"

Footsteps were forced to stop, inevitably creating that loud pause for the next few seconds.

"Have you ever spared a thought for the kid if you had been using him as a substitute for Vergil like you did with everyone else? You can't always be mourning dead while you're alive, Dante. I'm sure you of all people, should come to understand this. It's time you face your own feelings and stop burdening the people around you. Clean up the mess before—"

"Yeah asshole, before I shoot you in your ball sack."

Trish scanned the arena for the source of the explosive voice. In the far corner of the alley they had previously strutted through, a young lad abruptly emerged with a female comrade from the darkness. He bore similar white hair, fluttering whilst his blue cape flapped with the night wind. Staring in the direction where the mature duo plodded, he pointed his twin-barrel revolver at them, glints almost sparked from the gun. The youth stomped arduously towards them, biting his lower lip so intense that blood threatened to stream.

"N-Nero?" Dante caught a gander at the younger form who gritted his teeth as he stood right before him.

"You fucking asshole!" And the lad's bringer smashed the elder's jaw vehemently. He could almost see stars spinning as he spit a slight spew of blood onto the pavement, feeling the wound burning turned sore. The spitfire rucked every muscle on his face, ready for more.

"What's wrong?" Lady paced over to Trish, who had already left the elder's side to allow two very irrational half bloods to solve their sphinx.

"It's a long story… but in short, Dante screwed this one up."

"Definitely looks like it." The military-armed woman turned to the commotion once more, watching the blood of the red-clad hunter splattering with massive injuries forming across his luscious face.

"Kid! Will you just listen already?" The older male finally caught the violent brawls from the enraged lad, clenching his fists tightly with his bare hands and forcing them to a halt. However, the retaliation had only proven to infuriate Nero further as he struggled hysterically, howling in the silent night in absolute fury.

"YOU FUCKING USED ME!" The teenage roared, but losing foothold as he slipped back along with the elder trailing in the fall. Redness ascended across Nero's face as he noticed the senior pinning his wrists on the cold ground, slightly parting and kneeling in between his thighs. He shuffled wildly from Dante to escape the awkward situation, but the attempts were futile.

"I didn't, kid. I'm not mistaking you for Vergil. I haven't seen you for anybody else but you. You're you, you're not replacing anyone else, alright? So, will you just calm down first?"

Dante had never seen anyone wallowing that much in his entire life and the guilt was slowly eating him alive. His words seemed to have finally caught up with Nero for his struggles began to cease. While stopping the kid was a good sign, the elder was far more surprised by the choice of his words in his attempts to pacify the kid. Reckless but sincere, what was he trying to deliver in his speech? Was he becoming too conscious about his own thoughts or had he been confused by the sudden chain of discoveries? But no matter the outcome, he was certain he never substituted the kid once for anyone.

"Liar…"

"Never to you."

The young half demon almost felt his heart skipped a beat when he heard Dante's words. To be entirely honest, somewhere deep down in his human-devil side, he wished he could believe them.

"Then tell me… why did you do… that… that night… …" His voice was shaken. The embarrassment flushed all over him, burning up all of his cells.

While contemplating his word arrangement, the elder lowered his head to the side of the younger hunter, gasping warm breaths from his nervousness into Nero's reddened lobes. He was experiencing impulsion to mark the kid beneath him ever since the night he had taken him. They were way impetuous than his usual routines with women, wearing his self-control thin. A whiff of the boy could possibly lift him off his feet, breaching the last of his will-power. The only question was why—why had he been feeling like this?

Nero had been fidgeting below his torso the whole time, fighting to release his grips on him. True that he had meant to hear the answers, but he was too afraid to listen to them now. Especially with his random speeches—hell, it was already hard to face him with all that anger dissipating conveniently.

"I got woken up from my sleep by a familiar scent in the air. When my senses came around, I was already in your room and—"

A fit of anger struck the lad's core, awakening him from all his false hopes. "You mean you had no idea what… what you actually did…?"

The impact instantly threw Nero in utter disappointment when the elder shook in head softly in defeat. He immediately pushed the old man away as he picked himself into a sitting position in front of Dante, who had now collapsed on his bum staring lost into the lad's azure orbs. Clenching his bringer tightly, he gave a clean sweep across the hunter's face. A loud slap rattled the arena and caught the attention of the two chattering females afar. They hesitated to interlude thus held their grounds, continuing to monitor the situation.

Dante brushed his sore cheek, blank for words.

"You didn't just say you don't know what you did… you fucking liar." The infuriated teen stood up from his spot and looked at the other male. "You kept calling his name… like I wasn't there at all… even though I begged you to stop, you didn't… you kept calling out to him… _'Verge, Verge… why did you leave…'_ then you yelled and cursed over and over, screaming _'I'll never forgive you…'_ why didn't you hear me… did you know how you had tttta-ta—ken… that you…"

Before the younger devil could continue, a pair of strong arms embraced him tightly, arms stretching to his back, warming the trembling body that was shivering in pain. He could feel the warmth delivering through but fought against from submitting into the comfort. The senior clasped Nero's waist so strongly that the punk could barely breathe in his arms. Dante buried his shame in the shoulders of the youth and whispered soft groans of apologies.

"Listen to me Nero…! It wasn't supposed to—I mean I didn't mean to hurt you at all please… listen to me! That night I—"

"Listen? Didn't mean to…? WHAT'S THERE TO EXPLAIN WHEN YOU HAD ALREADY—!" The younger lad pushed the elder demon away from his fragile body. He fought the dilemmas in his head by avoiding coming in contact with the elder for it may possibly, if not definitely, cloud his mind again. Tears began rolling off the sides of his cheeks uncontrollably. He raised his armed hand at the elder once more, sliding his index finger against the trigger.

"Now give me one goddamn reason why I shouldn't blow your fucking head up." Nero snarled viciously, hoping for something to sooth his anxiety.

Dante knelt on one knee, glancing up at the infuriated lad. Nothing he says now is going to cut it; he knew he had nothing to deliver. But if he was going to get gunned down, it was well worth giving one last shot, whether he believed it or not.

"Are you planning to listen?" Dante cooed calmly, stretching his chances.

"I'm counting to three." The threading sound of the hammer pulled aback sounded sharply. "One… Two… Th—"

"I need you, kid."

One simple confession and it caught Nero off guard once more. _A leap of faith, or a gamble of fate…_ It was those faint hopes calling out again, crippling his determination. So much so that he loosened his pressure on the trigger and lowered his revolver slowly. Then packing the customized weapon back into its holder, he looked away from Dante emotionlessly.

"You… you don't need me. You're lying…" he reached deep into his denim pocket and revealed a torn piece of paper from it. He then flicked it into the elder's face and retorted disheartened. "I don't need your pity, Dante…" The elder picked up and flipped the note open, reading words written by someone he knew all too well.

Suddenly a bright light glowing distracted the elder, disrupting his recollection. He peered at the glowing talons, wielding the blade of a Japanese-flavored Devil Arm. Nero swung the handle of the weapon towards the elder male as the demonic aura lacing around it diminished from the lad's devil bringer. Dante caught the navy blue handle, allowing the purplish scent to crawl onto his skin. The young half blood stepped away from the entranced male, tears still trailing down the corners of his depressed features.

"I officially want nothing from you, Dante. Good bye."

The elder leered blankly at the running silhouette into the ominous alley. He dashed past the ladies as the female assailants watched him went by. Lady was about to give chase to her young companion but her comrade stopped her. Trish shook her head and convinced her otherwise.

"I'll handle the boy. You tend to Dante." And she spun off in the direction the boy headed for.

Carefully opening the note again, Dante mouthed the words scrupulously over and over, memories recalling—burnt markings on the paper and the inscriptions scribbled. He grasped the soft bangs dangling from his forehead and pressed his face into his palm, crinkling the paper in between.

_Dante please…..! stop-pp it p-pu-please… Dante please!_

If Dante's sanity had been walking on a thin line all this time, he might have lost it this instance. The soft cries pleading resounded in his ears, stinging his heart. His bare hands felt the burn from the touches he had laid on the young lad as visual memories began to form in his mind, minute details settling in their own places. He was beginning to see more than what he had originally told Trish. He was far from the truth he thought he once knew.

_You're hurting me Dante please… listen to me-me… I'm Nero… old man stop-p—please…._

"Remember something?"

Lady knelt down next to the devil hunter on the ground, snapping his concentration around.

"Lady…? Where's Trish?"

"Gone for the kid."

"I seriously screwed up big time, babe."

"You got that right. More than what the kid said, huh?"

"I let anger caught the better half of me and the kid became… a sacrificial for my… rampage."

_"Old man? How did ya find me?" Nero raised an eyebrow when he noticed the older male by his door, but sensed something amiss. Water droplets dripped from the edges of his drenched red coat, fitting pants and fingertips. The raindrops trickled down his wet bangs, along sunken cheeks to stubble chin. The downpour hit unexpectedly in the middle of the night as lightning flashed across the windowsill and thunder roared in the blackest sky. The silent elder stood still, water sipping through the old wooden flooring from the corridor in front of the lad's door. The youth had skipped off and returned with a warm fuzzy towel. He threw it over Dante's head, roughly abrading the dampness off._

_"Come on in, it's freezing out there." Nero brushed his fingers across his nose lightly, signaling to the elder hunter while walking back into his apartment. The drenched male silently entered, pulling the door until the owner heard a click from the frame. Standing in the empty kitchen, the lad poured a glass of warm water and returned to attend to his guest. There was a soft glow pulsating from his talons, something uncommon without the presence of danger lurking, nor demons parading his streets._

"_Something wrong, old man? You've been awfully quiet for some time now." The ex-Knight settled adjacently from the hunter, reclining in his seat. In the comfort of his own lair, Nero was dismissed from his usual hunting gear and presented himself in an oversized color-faded tee covered in mild stains and navy blue denim shorts. There were visible tears from all his clothing, supposedly dealt by his acute appendage. He folded his legs inwards, perturbed by the silence, but still continued scrutinizing Dante with little regards to his flickering arm._

_The minutes went by before a whimper of soft muddling sounded, catching Nero's attention._

_"_…_.. sso—rry…"_

_"Huh? What'd ya say?" Not only baffled by the broken expression, his bringer illuminated even sharper this round, completely non-consensual._

_But before he could have a second look at that, Dante leaped from his seat and launched into the smaller frame. He located Nero's wrists as he pinned them down from the severe fight put up by the latter. Irritated by the strife, he forced them into a cross lock beneath his vein-stringed hand while he used his other to secure the back of the lad's knees. In one quick swift, Dante carried Nero off the couch and slung him over his wet shoulder, allowing impact jutting straight into the abdomen of the younger half blood. The soreness caused the lad to stop fidgeting momentarily. While waiting for the pain to subside, Nero saw details in his sight swiveled around before he landed on soft berth, white and soft like his own bed._

—_Wait, that was his bed._

_"What the hell ol—" his sentence cut short when he felt the same tightened grip on his arms. He gaped menacingly at his guest who wore nothing but a blank canvas of calmness, soulless irises staring right back at him. Just then, an unfamiliar panic surged through Nero. It felt like a sting, a tickle, or even a cut—all the lad knew was it pulsated eagerly, causing him to go numb; and that sensation induced came straight from the icy glare Dante threw at him._

_The elder crept in between the lad's inner thighs, spreading them apart as he pushed the sides of his legs against Nero's knee joints. Upon sight of his awkward position, the lad flushed three shades darker before transcending another two shades deeper; turning embarrassment into intimidation. But before he could conjure his threat, Nero felt his lips crashed by messy interaction, sending him into absolute dazzle. Though not particularly fazed by the intrusion, the experience of something unknown felt peculiar. The demonic scent Dante inhaled set instincts ablaze as he pulled away from the kiss to look at the latter waist down. He roughly tugged the waistband of Nero's pants, making button popped and fly scooching down. Mild blue peeped in between the space of the displaced zip, a mild tanned line watermarking peeked just above the fitting brief._

_"Stop it old ma—" the punk hicked in between breaths and shock while trying to retaliate in his current situation._

_"… 'ge… I'm sorry—ver—" soft whimpers escaped from the old man as he paused, before returning with full aggression. He slipped his free hand into the soft covers and grasped the back of the lad's denim shorts, causing the material to come off in one clean sweep. If that wasn't unnerving, Nero instantly tensed up when his naked skin touched the cold sheets beneath, his very naked lower half's skin._

_Whatever the reason was, this had gone way too far. That being said, Nero summoned all of his strength to free his bringer lying beneath the capture. Luckily, his glowing devil arm glissaded from the pressure after some attempts and he immediately protracted his arm into the other half demon's face, forcing him to back off. Though he keeled over, Dante still had the upper hand in his disposition with the kid's wrists locked and his position restricted. He struggled from the mirage of the bringer clasping his face, grunting as it pushed him aback. Nero__could almost smell the victory reigning in his parade when suddenly—_

—_Abruptly, a jolt of pain coursed through his body, soon followed by the redolence of metallic scent._

_The glow on his talon diminished hastily, detaching itself from the staid elder's face. All of his fidgeting ceased to a halt. His azure irises breathed an air of nullity while tears drowned in the devoid. Nero felt heavy flux oozing from his rear. It quivered with sores from torn flesh stretched and fears of the unknown. Nero could feel his body shaking uncontrollably, his lungs constricted and his breath cut short. His throat had lost the capability of speech and his mind desperately tried to recover its will to fight. But all Nero could register was hurt, it had hurt so bad. The pain was unbearable and the blood wouldn't stop flowing. Frightened. So much so that Nero forgot his need to breathe. His lips very gently mouthed words, but words without a voice to be heard. He could only muster the strength for help in his mind, 'Help. Somebody help me. Somebody… please…'_

_Dante gripped the sides of the boy's waist tightly, causing bruises to swell when he continued pushing into him. The touch of Nero's skin shaking on his fingertips ran a cold rush down his spine. It was the mixture of fear and submission thrilling the half demon. His exuberance amplified when the young lad stopped resisting, his demonic instincts sinking in the dominance he held over the latter. The elder tugged the stricken butt cheeks of the young lad apart with both hands, stretching his opening wider to accommodate his hard erection as he took it deeper. It was tough. The blood wasn't slippery enough and it was drying up. He shifted his position, tilting the tip of his cock lower with his hand as he pressed in downwards. The older half demon could smell faint blood spilling again. The sweetness of blood, the scent of it invigorated him as he licked his lower lip. More, he wanted more of this. Redness sparked in his eyes. He bit his lower lip, almost drawing blood as __he gripped his member hard and continued pushing with the new aid. __It took him a few tries before he filled the lad up completely, pausing to adjust to the tightness circling around him. Then taking the boy's knees in his hands, he bent them over his shoulders, barely able to contain his urges anymore._

_Muttering inaudible words again, Dante shut his eyes tight and began his ministrations. Nero yelped, pained moans shrieked across the room. He watched the elder pumping inside him, the sound of wetness slapping against each other. He hissed again, feeling the abrasion subsiding. Was the blood not stopping? Water slapped louder from each stroke, causing the physical discomfort to gradually lose the burn. Nero gripped the crumpled sheets, embarrassed yet hateful to the sensation building. It was all in his head; he didn't want any of this, he wasn't enjoying this, his body would never betray him. He was an unwilling party, he was forced into this. He couldn't be getting off from this—not even if Dante was paying all of his attention to his semi-erected cock, giving it all the love it needed. The elder pushed in and out of Nero as his expert hand firmly wrapped around the boy's shaft, occasionally pulling his skin back to tease the raw flesh. Gasping, Nero looked away with closed eyes, feeling the humiliation from wanton desires. He needed to get away from Dante; he needed to push him away from whatever he was doing and stay the fucking far away from him. He needed to pull himself together to save himself. Above all, he mustn't succumb to his bodily needs._

_"_… _stop it ol-ah-old mannn… … please Dant—ee…" the lad begged in the fight for his rationality, divided between submitting and resisting._

_Dante continued thrusting the fragile body beneath him, listening to none of the boy's pleads. He was in his own realm; Nero's body had provided something more than the common sex, it had satiated right into his devil side. It was exhilarating. This long lost feeling he hadn't had for the longest time. His demon purred in delight, pushing his limit higher and higher, forcing him to tip over his restraint. He nipped the milky complexion flaunting his radiant glow, letting one hand touch all over Nero's body until he came across the boy's __piquant protruding. He ran his wet fingers over the thin shirt, watching as it soaked and stuck onto his cute nipples. His finger play elicited soft moans from Nero, who murmured uncontrollably at his inexperience. Groaning frustratingly, the elder then pinched the delicate flesh sharply, causing the embarrassed boy flinched in trembling excitement. It swelled and hardened as he continued teasing it, with Nero hissing at every tinge of pain he inflicted._

_The blood had subsided by now and scringe spurted with each stroke the elder administered. Nero could barely contain his voice from the illicit sex. He wasn't sure how it happened but the pain was completely gone. He didn't even know how did the sex drained his strength before he even noticed. He wasn't even as panicky as he initially was. Was he weak-willed? Why is this happening? Awareness made Nero tensed at the fear again, but he realized he was so wet down there that it didn't factor pain anymore. He shrilled at the thrusting. He could feel Dante sliding in and out of him with ease. The grinding was smooth and pleasant; he couldn't put his two cents as to why it felt good now. But the thought of it feeling good only frightened the boy even further._

_"…_ _ge—Verge why did you go… don't leave m-me…"_

_Nero first caught the mellow cries and hesitated to open his eyes. As the muffling continued to whimper, he couldn't bear but to chase for the voice. When he did, he saw the elder in lament for the first time, tears overflowing from the brim on his eyelids. A whiff of pang collided his heart. The mournful cry. The heartbroken grief. He felt the wince so badly that he wanted to embrace his cold figure tightly—never mind the fact if he had taken him by force, stripped him of his dignity, and even called the name of another out. Just for this moment, he was willing to ignore all of those. He couldn't explain the desire, the need. It wasn't just empathy. He had never once yearned to reach out to another person other than Kyrie. But for Dante, he wanted to. No, he needed to._

_So desperately, he clung onto Dante for dear life, whispering endearingly._

_"_… _I'll never leave you… …just listen to m-me Dante…"_

_Slowly his hands traveled from the sides of the elder's arm to the back of his head, threading his fingers with his silvery locks while pulling his body up into a sitting position—body-to-body, heart-to-heart. He rested his burning cheeks against the hunter's cool face, slipping words of affection into his ears, hoping Dante had heard them._

_"Please Dante…I'm Nero… so wake-uppp… old man—I…"_

_".. liar… you.. lied to me…"_

_"_… _No! Li-listen Dante! … I lov—"_

_"I'll never forgive you, you liar—!" A beam of red light illuminated from his azure orbs, diffusing to a sea of flame. Effervescence of red demonic aura emitted from the elder's silhouette as his body began convulsing in distortion. The elder slammed the punk violently back onto the sheets, grabbing the ankles of his feet and pinning it onto his shoulders, forcing his torso to cringe against his thighs exposing his lower half. Hands that were once human protruded claws and discolored into darkest complexion. Nero watched in fear while the elder—he thought he knew—triggered for the first time before his eyes. It was nothing he had imagined; the body of a pure demon armored in talons and fangs. Dante's transformation stirred his senses, reducing his thoughts begging only for forgiveness and mercy._

_For the first time in his life, he felt a level of helplessness he never known existed. And if he had reckoned that was as far as it could go, it was only until he felt the expanded throb widened in his penetrated flesh that he experienced the true helplessness._

_"_… _Never forgive you, —Vergil!" the voice reverberated this time had no remains of humanity left. Nero squirmed in horror as the demonic howl echoed in his ears. His tender body tissues gave way effortlessly, tearing up the already-broken flesh once more with stale blood coated over by fresh ones. The punk twitched in paranoia, sapphire eyes almost turning opaquely gray, losing faith and confidence to bring the elder around. Pain amplified with each passing second—claws pierced through young flesh, escalating the stench of blood all over. The demon licked the trail of reddened gore from the wounds and cuts he had aggravated, causing more with each devour. The damage sent Nero into a complete frenzy. Pleasure like pure ecstasy hit the triggered male as he picked up speed. Even though he could hear his prey screaming in agony and grief, it was impossible to stop feasting._

_"Dante please…! Stopp it ppu-please… Dante please!" The red-clad demon continued ramming into his prostate, the intensity causing more blood to spill onto the soaked sheets—a bloody mess on the bed. The sex went on, blown full-scale to the point of no return. Nero cried in misery, but they only sounded like sweet melodies to the demon's ears._

_"Ve-rrge—Vergee—!" Husky puffs escaped from the demon's lips, scorched by sweet satisfaction._

_"You're hurting me Dante please… listen to me-me… I'm Nero… old man stop-p—please…."_

_"Verge…"_

_"Dante…"_

_"…shut it—Vergil… don't—"_

_"Da-dante…"_

_The experience continued to scar the young lad as the demon released into his body. His constricted body milked every single drop of pent-up frustration from the demon, shaking from fright and sensation. The intercourse rocked his body to its core, leaving all his senses overly spent and exhausted. But before he could relieve in rest, Nero felt his body turned about carelessly, face collided flat into the dirtied sheets. The seizure swelled again as the demon pushed into wound once more. It burnt once again. Nero's vision slowly blurred into empty space, losing track of time and hope._

"_Dante… for…give me—please…"_

"…'_gil…"_

"_Dan…te…"_

"…_er…gil—umm—'ero…"_

"_Danteee!"_

"Hey Dante! You okay?"

Lady shook the stiffened body that had been in paradox, successfully awakening the elder. However his expression had conveyed a journey of despair and disbelief prior to his drift moments ago, though quite frankly he had already perceived himself to be at the crossroads like he was now. The elder slapped his gloved palm into his forehead, crinkled brows dug deep into his bridge with eyes snarling like a demon. He then delved his fingers into his skin, gritting his fangs in shame and disgust.

"Getta'hold of yourself Dante! You don't want to be triggering in a religious place like this if you wanna stay outta trouble." The female comrade slapped hard onto his shoulders, gripping it harder than usual into his frame.

"It was much worse than I have thought." A faint mope enhanced the grief he wilted in anguish. But if he had the time to brood over spilled milk, he should already be finding a solution to the problem.

"You'd seen it finally?"

"My demon side remembers his smell no doubt." It then daunted on him why he had that distant dream in the train, in the form of his long lost brother.

"So what are you intending to do about it?" The feminine fighter withdrew her hands from the hunter, folding them in with anticipation. She watched the hunter as he picked himself off the ground, dusting the particles off his jacket. Clasping the sheath of the marine blue katana, he affixed it securely next to Rebellion on his back. He took a few steps away from the young woman and turned around surprisingly, with his usual glee once more. Humming in a flat inquisitive tone, he stretched to his back and yanked the grip of his babies, spinning them teasingly in his playful act of display. In climaxed motion, he pointed Ivory in the air and fired one shot into the wispy sky. The clouds dithered into clarity in coherence, quasi-affirmative to the resolution he decreed.

Lady examined Dante as he lowered his pistol pointing directly at her, winking vivaciously with subtle hints of smirk lying under.

"There's nothing a little fight can't solve." He chuckled confidently.

She simpered in mild relief, refusing to allow the hunter catching her worry in confession. Trotting towards the rejuvenated elder, she lightly patted his shoulders this time.

"Now there's that cocky asshole I know. Do waccha' gotta do."

* * *

For readers who are unsure, the chuck of italics is a recollection in Dante's memory.

Will Nero ever believe in Dante again?


	10. Episode 10: Mother

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry. **

* * *

Fragments. Or what seemed like the broken debris of a forgotten chapel.

Trish entered the abandoned church that smelt of powdered concrete and burnt benches. A severely cracked statue of a demon stood bravely in the ablaze, disfigured boldly. The heels of her boots resonated in the silence, each step getting louder as she walked towards the chipped model. _To think the people here worshipped a demon for a god_, she mused, recalling the days where she once fought for a _god_ too, known none other as the prince of darkness.

She stood before the statue silently for a moment, before noticing an extended length of a shadow cast on the floor that was not a part of it. She trotted to the side to lean forward for a quick peek, but was returned with a cold welcome from a pair of twin barrels that were all too familiar just moments ago.

"Get out." The kid snarled.

"Wouldn't you like some company?"

"I won't repeat myself. Get out now."

Trish pulled a piece of paper from the back pocket and handed it to Nero, wincing her smile to some level of rigor. "You might want to though, after this." She stepped away, ready to exit as per what the punk had requested.

"Wait! What's this note? I never wrote anything like this." The white-haired punk called aloud to the mysterious blonde, demanding for an explanation. "Did you make this up?"

Smirking with her back facing the lad, she spun around playfully and winked at the youth. "She gave it to us, your precious girlfriend. She said it was a letter you had left behind for her."

Albeit trying to remain nonchalant, the twitch on his face gave away looking surprised at the content she spoke. Was she not the one who had left him, assuming that he no longer had love left in place of their relationship? Was she not the one who had made all the decision leaving him no choice but to move on and find the answer to the end of it? Why did it all seem like his fault again? Better yet, why did she lie?

"You must be lying. There is no way that she could have written something like this since she was the one who left me."

"Either that or, she lied to you."

It struck the kid harder when the blonde had stepped into his demise. A glimpse of what happened before she departed replayed in his mind. He wasn't ready to let her go just yet then, but there were times where he felt he should leave the girl for her safety. Maybe the latter could have been excuses, but whatever they had been, he never did leave her.

Whereas these two letters, whichever the truth is, will not change the fact that she did what he didn't, or couldn't have.

However, the impact came mild and Nero was rather amazed it had not struck him as much as he expected it to. He felt hurt—he is _hurt_—with some form of sadness washing him. To measure the amount of hurt he was experiencing, it was somewhere along the lines of being left out in the cold, alone but not helpless.

Comparing that to the damage Dante dealt on him, Nero felt like he could emotionally survive anything now, if he had survived _that_.

In fact, the old man was all he could think of right now. Maybe he shouldn't have left in that fit of anger—maybe he should have really given him a chance to explain himself instead. He wanted to hear what he had to explain, perhaps a piece of the tune the elder often hymn between his lips. The hint of strawberry syrup that danced along his lips, which scented in the intimacy he had bonded close with the old man. The prickling sensation of his crude stubble grazing across his cheeks when he threaded his fingers through his soft white—

_What the hell am I thinking?_ Nero stopped abruptly.

"Look here, I'm not going to let history repeat itself so I'll be quick with you. If you intend to leave Dante, then just leave. Don't look back, don't hang onto him, and don't regret. Don't leave him one moment, then getting yourself all regretful and come hanging back onto him like a little stray pup, you got that?"

The smile wore off her face, replaced with a stern glare as sharp as a blade. She paced close to the young lad, bending forward such that her eyes were staring straight into his, getting him to pay attention to her words. She held her threshold firmly in face of the hybrid, proven unwilling to back down from her statement. The punk was neither fazed though, and to top it off, he was rather annoyed by her pushiness. He juiced her offensiveness by rolling his eyes, disinterested in her hoax.

"You better learn your place boy." Her snarling words etched deep as she grabbed his red sweater by the zippers, shaking him intentionally.

"And you should come to understand I'm not some whore, like you." He swept his talons across her jaw, dismissing her from impoliteness. The scaled limb scratched her skin faintly, pushing her aback while the lad took chance to get himself away from her. He grilled her from the corner of his eye as his bringer brimmed lightly in halo blue. Cringing his claws waywardly, he slammed his devil fist into his human palm, jeering at the blonde who stood before him with her pistols ready in hand.

"Stop messing around, Nero."

"Put your man on a leash if you don't want him to start messing around in the first place."

"My man?"

"Yeah, the kind that you nor he can't do without each other. You know what, forget it. Just go blow yourself." The punk reached into the leather holder strapped from the back to his thighs and pulled out the over-barreled revolver firing in plain sight. Trish dodged too easy, feeling almost underestimated and sorry for her lightning quick abilities. She returned a couple of rounds at the angsty lad, who ducked by leaping off the ground while utilizing air-borne time to infuse demonic energy to his magnum. The bullets shot out in blazing anatomy, fueled by oxygen to radiate like fire rounds, hollering in the air with speed of sound towards the blonde.

Evading was necessary, but to do it without style would have been just too boring. So the ever-witty Trish came up with a plan. With that, she swerved her hands in a circular motion, as though outlining the circumference of a seal in full-boded spectrum. Upon the explosive ammunition arriving head-on, she released a jolt of lightning through the portal-like setup she arranged, watching miniature fireworks sparkled before sight. She snickered lightly, tapping some arrogance off the lad.

"You aren't human."

"Hmmm, don't recall saying I am."

"…"

"Besides, there's no human who can put up living with Dante."

Nero brushed his nose a little. _She's tough_, or he thought so. It was almost too easy to picture their partnership, better yet them both being demons. Maybe what Lady had told him was right; this woman was indeed the best companion for the old man. Her looks, body, elegance, wit and skills matched flawlessly. She had a way with words that would effortlessly grasp the attention of the elder. Apart from that, they appeared to be companions for the longest time, looking all chattery and comfortable in each other's presence. But it shouldn't matter at all in the first place—it's not like he had wanted anything to do with the old man, nor did he intend to intercept whatever relationship those two were having. Wait, it wasn't like he would forgive the old man at all. He needed to return to Kyrie's side and solve the misunderstanding in between.

At least, that was what was rolling through his head.

_I must be mad… what am I getting so worked up for?_ The punk readdressed his empty concerns. All he needed to do was to leave this town, and never looked for the hunter again. He had already returned Yamato to its rightful owner, there is nothing left now connecting them in any way—oh, other than the public-proclaimed Sparda bloodline.

"… Whatever." The half blood snorted while tucking the revolver away.

"What are you so pissed about?" Trish folded her arms, leaning against the disheveled statue watching the white-haired youth about to leave.

"Why do you care?"

"Because I care for Dante, and he cares for you."

There was a slight pause in between Nero's lines, half-accepting and reluctant to believe. He picked the latter eventually.

"He wouldn't. If he did, none of these would have happened." His voice dangled disappointingly.

"It's because you don't understand a damn thing about Dante."

Though he refused to listen what the blonde had installed for him, she was right about one thing—he did know nothing about the old man. He did feel intrigued by all the suspense and far more disturbed by the name _'Vergil'_, which he had no idea who Dante was referring to. More importantly, he knew nothing about the past that had been choking the old man all this time. But there was just no way he could have sat down and listened to him talking about his past—he did, after all, _defile _him senseless. These frayed pieces of faith were barely keeping him together in face of the elder, no matter how much Nero had tried to rely on his gratitude for him. _Whatever, it doesn't change anything_, Nero convinced himself confidently—

"What do you make of a man, who continued living the pain of losing the one he ever loved in his life for the past 15 years?"

—Or his heart convinced him otherwise.

His footsteps stopped before he turned to face the woman with curiosity. She recovered the brilliant smile on her face, settling the boy at ease while searching for a clean bench around the vicinity. Nero took the gesture finely and joined the quest. They found one green piece of furniture hidden way in the corners, looking shiny and undamaged. The punk threw his bringer out, the ghastly shadows gripped on the armrest and dragged the foot across the cracked marble floor.

"Now I see what that cute little thing is good for."

"You want me to put a bullet in your head?"

Trish burst out in raw laughter watching the kid clumsily placing the seat, whining as it slightly bumped into his leg. She might have already begun to see why Dante had been so fond of this boy, since he had mentioned his name a few times in between their daily conversations. The blue-clad slayer dropped his weight onto the cathedral's bench, a familiar array of memories taking its toll on him—the morning preaches he went with Kyrie, the morning carols she sang, the civilians who took faith in the prayers they chanted for; they felt nostalgic, and _meaningless_ at the same time. The blonde took seat a few inches away from the younger half, crisscrossing her slender legs before she began her speech.

"You should already know the name by now right? _Vergil_, that is."

Nero nodded his head silently, slightly looking away.

"Vergil is Dante's brother, twin brother to be exact."

"You mean, the blade belongs to Vergil?"

The blonde nodded mildly while she continued her story.

"Though being twins, they found love. However the only obstacle setting them apart was Dante chose to embrace the human side of his legacy, whereas Vergil wanted to harness the powers that they were bestowed upon since birth. Thus Vergil wanted to reopen the Hell Gates with their amulets to achieve power. His conquest went for the wildest crusade ever, in bloodshed and massacre. He had to be stopped—that's when Dante took up his destiny. The fight left none of them in tact, all bruised and tattered, torn to pieces. In the end the most painful decision either one of them had decided to protect only left the other broken. And that was obviously Dante."

"He… killed him?"

"He didn't, or rather not the first time. Vergil chose the netherworld where he was defeated and captured by the Prince of Darkness, Mundus. That was my first acquaintance with Vergil, just that he was no longer _Vergil_ anymore then."

While listening to the account, Nero's fury subsided before he even took notice of it. Drawn to an old tale, he was currently nothing more than a kid waiting in bed for mother to tell him stories that he knew none of.

"Actually, this isn't exactly how I'd looked like. I was crafted in the image of Dante's mother so if you asked me how I'd originally look like, I'm afraid I can't answer that. My primary mission was to annihilate Dante. Said appearance was infused to help me in my escapade when I made my first visit to Devil May Cry. Faking my expected defeat, I convinced him to visit Mallet Island to stop Mundus' plans where I planned to commence my mission. But my failure resulted in my immediate disposal by Mundus, which I survived from. Dante then defeated Mundus and escaped the island. He accepted my apology and welcomed me on board in the journey of demon slaying for the betterment of mankind. With that, I have vowed to take care of him so long as my demon blood takes me, to repay my gratitude and to keep him alive nonetheless. And I think I've bore you long enough with old fairy tales so, let's get back to the main topic."

The wise always nails it the first time—Nero's eyes glistened in anticipation, craving for the truth to be made known.

"What happened?"

"Hmmm… Let me put it this way. Dante was still Dante the first time when Vergil disappeared before his eyes. He is broken one way or the other; at times, he would just stare at Yamato blankly for hours while occasionally, he is still the cocky ass he is. If you put him on jobs, he'll still get them done the least. Though knowing he was emotionally hurt, he still behaved like his usual self—while mustering the pain within away.

The first night on Mallet Island, he was assaulted by a demon. It took me rather by surprise since that wasn't my strike. We fought to take the demon down and managed to force it to retreat. But before we realized it wasn't after Dante, Yamato was already gone. That demon was Nelo-Angelo."

There was a change in her tone before she continued to reveal the sequels to come, resulting in Dante's semi dysfunctionality later. She scrutinized at Nero's features, looking for a question from the kid.

"Is there something I should be asking?" Nero finally asked impatiently.

"How do you suppose Nelo-Angelo looked like?" She jested with a twirl at the end of her grin.

"Like I would know that!" The punk huffed sarcastically, rolling his eyes while stretching his legs before resting one over the other. Trish lifted her back off the bench rest and bent slightly forward, tilting her head slightly facing the buoyant slayer.

"He looks like the shadow of your trigger. In fact, he just might be."

A slight disarray of energy slipped out of his bringer. The blonde watched the neon blue static danced on his scales as the kid clenched the heated arm slightly. Nero looked at his arm in astonishment too; the flow was subtle and smooth, sapphire to the colors of his eyes, unlike the usual crashing waves of potassium fever whenever he wielded Yamato.

"Have you seen Dante's trigger?" Trish popped a question sharp enough to burst the distraction above the kid's head. Nero was rather reluctant to respond to it but he knew she would find out either way somehow.

"Sorta…" he mumbled to himself.

"See the difference between his and yours?" Trish stood up from the chair this time, walked over to the other side and placed her fingers on the demonic arm. The glow slowly dissipated and meted out back to normality. The young slayer felt her gentle touches and slightly brushed his nose a little, dusting the tip of his bridge. She examined his arm meticulously. _No Devil Arm has ever been encased onto a human before_, she mused to herself, unable to explain the discovery. She had read up and studied about Nero's arm since the Order had been curious about. But for now, this was the first time it was physically presented before her.

"You are not capable of triggering right now probably because you have not awakened your blood."

"Your point being?"

"What I am concerned about is, I don't want to let Yamato's powers sipped into you. Dante may have given you the sword, but I doubt he knows what it could actually do to you. Since he was awakened by instincts, his trigger is raw power by nature. You are triggering now because of—"

"What do you mean by instincts?"

"It was a matter of life and death when Vergil stabbed him for the amulet. His pulse receded, causing his blood to take over. When I mean blood, I, of course, mean the demonic half that resides him. Rebellion reacted to it, calling to his demon. After awakening, his demon side is triggered, revealing the true form of a demon—in Dante's case, the Sparda heresy in him. Therefore, as I was saying, you're currently using the powers of Yamato to trigger, the containment of Vergil and Nelo-Angelo's residue. Your longing and desire to save Kyrie back then might have awakened the demonic powers in your own body and these powers were amplified through Yamato. Though this is not a full awakening of your demon half, prolonged dependence on this source of energy will probably, if not eventually, awaken your own demon side. The desire to dominate as a demon surpasses all common sensibility or rationality. If you want to stay accepted as a human, that is the bottom line you need to remember, and one you should never cross. Do you believe Kyrie will be able to accept you for who you are, if you lose your true form before her? She may be able to accept you now, but that is only because she hasn't seen the real you. Not only her, will you be able to accept who you really are then?"

Nero was hit hard. He remembered the look of coercion worn on the Dante's face. The scent of raw demonic power smelt of aphrodisiac hurling his will to give in. Touches electrocuted his skin and melted his resistance against the overwhelming creature. His inner ghost succumbed to it. It was brute and rough, suffocating. Nothing the likes of what a human can withstand. If he were to become one, he wouldn't dare imagine the things he could do to the petite girl. He could never forget the look Kyrie wore on her face when she first discovered his demonic arm; how frightful and taken aback she was at his abnormality.

_Nero… … you're mine._

The slayer broke out in cold sweat as he stood from his seat. The callings were familiar. He shivered mildly, but noticeable in the eyes of the experienced senior.

"Something wrong?"

"Nah… it's just these voices that I have been hearing lately. They're driving me crazy."

"Oh, but they aren't just voices though."

"Then what are they?"

Trish cleared her throat a little, returning a look of seriousness at the young lad.

"It happens when one demon has been subjugated by the other. I used to hear them too. My creator was Mundus, so I was bounded by servitude. I hear his wills and commands, and abide by it. There are other similar cases causing it, which by far the most commonly seen is submission. It can either happen after being defeated hence forced into subjugation, or, in other scenarios, being physically marked or taken. If you didn't know, a demon's body remembers his master or his victim very well. This process of submission is ritualistically embedded definitively. Well in simple human language, they would either call it sex by the willing or rape by the violated, though not that I would acknowledge it. Demons are just a little more complicated than usual."

And Nero's impeding silence was very well forecasted before hand.

"So the voice you're hearing is Dante's demon half. He remembers your scent. It's an animalistic nature."

She peered over at the solemn boy, who was tightly clutching the sides of his coat. With success reigning in her plan, she had half-expected the truth to dish him aback. As for the other half_… _Trish wasn't going to lie; she wanted the kid to _astound_ her. But since her plan appears to be going smoothly as planned, it was time to strike while the iron's hot.

"Back to where we left off, Dante eventually stumbled into Nelo-Angelo during his quest to defeat Mundus. He fought with the demon whom wielded Vergil's blade, holding it as though they were one entity. Dante watched it danced, almost convinced in between battles that it was truly his beloved brother. No matter how much he battled against his own dilemma, his determination sought through to defeat the demon. It riled in pain and just before Dante decided to leave the battlefield, he witnessed his adversary threw its helm onto the floor, revealing the familiarity of pale white hair and bruising sunken face. His heart turned cold as he watched it dropped to its knees, the sound of its armor hitting the ground loudly as white light consumed the remains of its flesh.

That was Vergil—he being corrupted by Mundus through the chambers of tortures led him to lose all the memories he had ever possessed; only living in the shell of Nelo-Angelo, only remembering that as his identity.

Nothing could have devastated Dante even more after realizing that he not only had to kill his brother twice, he also couldn't save him from becoming into what he was; neither did he know that his brother had been tortured alive all this time, losing all the memories of their love story etched deeply in his, or _their_ hearts. His hands shook, trembling from the burning scar which found its place in his regret. That tore Dante into pieces, devouring him into a bottomless pit of guilt, remorse and renounce for redemption.

Aftermath, Dante was no longer the Dante I first met ever since. He lost it; somewhere on Mallet Island, he left a part of himself with the remnant of Vergil. That was how much he had loved Vergil, having it all kicked back in his face."

The young punk swore he could have seen the entire scenario replaying before his eyes. After he had seen those regretful eyes weeping in absolute bitter grief, everything Trish said now made sense. There was no place for him to be inside the elder's heart. To know such love existed, there was a mysterious sourly wince churning and regurgitating in his stomach. For one he was certain he hadn't forgiven the elder in his heart, but the rush of empathy was defying his will. His heartbeat was getting louder by the minute—he could feel the blood rush palpitating in his head.

Suddenly all the encounters he had ever had with Dante were recasting—from the first day he drop-kicked him in the face in this very chapel he stood now, up to the dawning scene where he returned Yamato back to him just a while ago; as well as the night he embraced the old man's shivering body, wanting to tell him something he didn't get a chance to.

_What had I wanted to say to him then?_

The features on his face warped into lingering sadness, plaguing a weary look of missing. He would admit to himself this time—_why is he always on my mind?_

"As much as I would like you to just get the hell away from Dante, I couldn't deny the fact that he has changed much after he met you." Trish had been observing the white-haired punk over the last conversation and quite frankly, she thought the attention Nero gave was far too sincere and dedicated. Having a fair share of her doubts, she thought of dismissing him like any other women the elder had ever laid hands on. A little truth would usually do the trick, or that was what she thought. But Nero did _astound_ her and when he wore that genuine look of concern across, her worries seemed to have dissipated on their own. _Almost like a lost pup in search of his owner_, she smiled to herself.

Drawn to the said change, Nero blinked in disbelief.

"He did?"

"I haven't seen him smile and having fun since a long time until we came to Fortuna. He seems to have found something he lost in you, something that even a friend cannot provide perhaps."

The young punk watched the back of mature woman settling back onto the furniture once again. It took Nero some time to process her claim for it never occurred to him that the old man would have felt that way after meeting him. He was, to put it bluntly, happy, even though there was no reason to support that elation. Did Dante change because of him, or was it the blade? These suspicions were weighing more on the positive side now, slowly dismissing the latter out of the window.

Luminosity gathered on the red and blue talons once more. A warm pulsation slowly beating with the rhythm of his heart. There is no covering up now—tender thoughts of the old man sets him at peace, every often so whenever he feels the hollowness of his loud difference from others.

If it was the old man, Nero knew he would have welcomed him with open arms and told him, _"We're the same. You and me."_

"Save him."

Soft pleads from his acquaintance reentered into his blushing lobes. Almost stupefied, he looked at the woman afar; her head held low with bent elbows on her knees, forehead touching the sides of her index fingers pushing impressions onto her skin. Taking small steps, Nero paced towards the fellow demon standing before him as she lifted her head up, limitless sincerity bounding the honesty hiding in their lineage.

"What?"

"Save him from becoming the man he is now."

"What do you mean?" Nero questioned back aloud, baffled.

"I've done all that I can and they don't work. It's time for someone else to give it a try."

"Aren't you staying with him?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I can get him to stop. Believe me, 'cause I've tried."

"It doesn't matter how many times you try because if you love someone you'll never stop at it."

"You mean like how desperate you were trying to save Kyrie back then? It's not the same, Nero." Trish stood up from the chair, slowly pulling the pistol out from the back of her pocket. "If there is a particular target to annihilate, I could have done all I can to destroy it. These are memories; there's nothing I can do about it. I know how much Dante loves Vergil, but I won't tolerate if it's slowly killing him. I believe that is not what Vergil wanted either."

"You are willing to destroy a part of him even though you love him?"

Trish looked at the boy in astonishment, about to crack a laugh if she was heading in the right direction with the lad.

"Love? Define it."

Nero blushed red at the request, turning his head slightly away as he scratched his nose. "Someone you can't do without? I-I mean—just someone who is constantly on your mind for no apparent reason!" He fumbled with his words, irritated at his own nervousness.

"I think you'd just answered your own question, didn't you?"

A bigger half of an unknown silence returned once again. It wasn't the awkwardness alone. Both demons held their grounds firmly, sensing something massive approaching.

"Whatever the case is, Nero, I'm still going to be blunt with you. I don't know what you're making up about Dante and me but I can assure you you're in the wrong direction. I care about him, but not in the little romantic way you crafted in your head. We are demons and we hunt our kind, bathing in blood and glory. We don't possess a lingering need for one another, not in any way. So with that all said, get it in your head that he's not my man. He is _available_. If you want him, take him and make him yours. Don't let his thoughts wander off to someone else, especially not the chance to think about his late brother. Get it into his thick head that you will never let him feel the way he is now ever again. Love him more than anyone could have ever had. And most importantly, keep to your promise and don't ever break him the way Vergil did. No better time to show how far your love can get."

Broken chippings from the chapel ceiling collapsed as the building began to tremble and shatter. The tiles danced in mini throttles whereas benches were giving way across the flooring. Massive is an understatement; something _apocalyptic_ is coming. Strong winds gushed through the exposed opening from the roof, tearing every piece of carnage lying in the room. Even the majestic statue gave way to more cracks. Trish hid her face behind her arm, peering through the strong current and catching a hint of glowing blue amidst the mesh of gray. She moved towards the neon light, dropping her weight with each step in order to stay on the ground. Nero could feel his feet slipping off and struggled to grip his curb firmly. Lacking in the defense department, he charged Blue Rose and began firing random shots where the wind gathered most at. The blonde made note of the clause and joined the mindless scattering, wasting shells in the same region.

"TCH!"

A stiff growl echoed from the epicenter of the ruckus. Winds then slowly diminished through the cracked exits possible.

"Nero, don't forget what I said."

"I know what'cha said but it's not like I'm in love with that old man, especially when I've not forgiven him!" Nero rebutted with flushed glows emitting from his pale cheeks. "Besides, there's no way anyone can replace—"

"You're not listening. Don't replace him, overtake him. You may deny all you want, but you know the truth residing inside. There's a reason why you haven't shot him in the head, and it's definitely not because of the things he did."

The silhouette of a creature trotted towards the duo, soft gasps of rugged breath escaping its lips. Nero pulled the amber hilt of Red Queen off his back and revved up the heat accelerating in it. His new female companion clasped the handles of her pistols targeting the androgynous demon up front. She sensed something amiss in the atmosphere—she hadn't feel this insecure in a long time. It wasn't about Nero; although the kid had areas he could greatly improve on, he possessed skills much better than most of the people they had come across even the way he is now. Much needless to say about herself, Trish has always been one who plans ahead and even in an event if all else appears to fail, she will always be ready with a contingency plan.

_So, what is this strange worry?_

"We'll continue after we take this thing down. Least it doesn't look like it's gonna scar me in the most hideous way I've ever seen." The young punk laughed lightly, recanting old battles against some of the weirdest ugliest demons he had fought.

"Hmmm, you do make hilarious comments in times like these. Sure we will, if only we both make it to the end."

Bitter uncertainty filled the end of the woman's sentence. As Nero turned to look at the senior, she bolted off the ground towards the shadow, spraying bullets into the deadly night. He knew he had to be right behind her just in case…

_Something's not right._

* * *

Thanks for the all support, alerts and favorites.


	11. Episode 11: Revenge

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry.**

* * *

_Unexplainable. This is total abnormal strength._

_Did the Intel fail us? Did Lady give us the wrong tip off?_

_This is ridiculous on all levels._

_Urgh, the blood is pouring. I haven't felt pain this real for a long time. Well no doubt it's clear proof that I am still alive on some level and more importantly, there's something still capable of giving me a good time. Now I should just get up and take care of it like I usually do—_

_Wait, I can't get up. Did the joint on my left knee just popped?_

_Like I haven't run out of luck already._

_Ah crap, now I can feel the sting of my bone fracturing inside. Have I gotten this soft?_

"_Stop struggling. It is useless."_

_Who said that? That doesn't sound like the kid's voice._

"_Get your fucking hands off me!"_

_It's the kid now alright—is he captured? Oh man I really should have butted out of Dante's affair. I don't really wanna deal with the aftermath if there is one actually. That lazy ass might just hurl at me for not protecting his—_

_Oh yeah, Dante. Where the hell is he when you need him? That useless bum. You can most certainly prove yourself to be most useful if you're here right now. Can't you smell your mate in danger already? Screw those hormones and animalistic nature. They really are nothing but a pack of sex talk, are they?_

"_Are you the son of Sparda?"_

_Who's that talking again? It can't be from that demon now, can it? It sounds more human-like this time. The scent I picked up definitely belongs to a demon, nowhere possibly near humane as this. That aside, why is he looking for Dante?_

"_I'm not that asshole you're looking for so get your hands off me before I blow your brains out!"_

_The clinking of the cylinder sounds good; revolver shots are rapid and vibrant. I can hear bullets piercing flesh and blood splattering. Way to go kid—I can't be too far behind him. I gotta get him safe, at least back to Dante._

_Shit, my eye hurts. Did the demon blind my eye? Why can't my damn right eye open?_

"_You fool!"_

_Tch, what's this wave of wind now? I better grab hold of something… Ah, got it. This leash of powers is monstrous, the hell's with this crazy source? Although I'm not seeing it, I certainly am aware of its immensity. In fact, it's been growing stronger since I first felt it. Or perhaps it should be the other way around—the lack of sight makes me realize how dire the situation is. Whatever the case, I gotta help the kid._

Trish finally picked herself up from the ground by touching the walls along the sides of the chapel. Feeling up the wound from her eye, a slice of debris protruded right above her damaged eye causing blood to flow profusely. Grabbing the tip of the foreign object, she tugged and pulled the splinter out in a single shot, growling at the sharp pain when removed. In complete control of the pain, she opened her injured eye with brute force and scrutinized the battlefield around—only capturing searing carnage and dithering dust in crimson red. Blood continued to flow down past her eye, but the wound had slowly begun to heal on its own.

After regaining partial sight, she had been frantically searching for Nero but he just wasn't within her vision. Stretching her area of scope, she limped closer towards the center of the church where she noticed the silhouette of the immense creature once more. Immediate instincts led her leaping for cover behind one of the damaged furniture. She peered from the corner of her defense, finally taking notice of a contorted shadow of another head appearing from the limbs of the creature apparently.

_It must be Nero._

_I gotta help him._

The blonde reloaded her guns and fired into the dusty background, dashing towards the crowd despite her injured appendage. Parallels of storm structures parachuted towards her as she dodged them carefully. She returned a couple of lightning shots as well, successfully striking the demon. Crowding mist finally dissipated and nightlight shone through the tearing from the ceiling. The silhouette glistened under the moonlight, brimming in cerulean and navy. It stood well over ten feet, with a pair of tinted sparks of gold illuminating in the night sky. Nero struggled eagerly in its binding grip though it was all vapid to the creature. While clasping onto the young devil hunter's waist sideways, it restricted the movements of the punk's bringer in the process. The lynx had claws abnormally huge, and the talons would graze the lad's limbs if he moved too much carelessly.

"Nero! Let go off him!"

"So… you're really not the Son of Sparda?" The demon hissed.

_Son of Sparda. That's not something pleasant to hear after so long. Grudges? Vengeances? Any case, gotta get the kid outta here asap._

"About time you noticed, dipshit!" Nero raised his armed hand to the face of the creature, firing two sets of double shots instantly. The blue demon howled in sheer pain as he placed his free arm into his face. Making good use of his opening, the punk folded his knees upwards impaling them into the abdomen of the staggering mob. He ensued the impact was heavy and continued the assault again into the same spot, causing the grip around his waist to loosen from the demon—an opportunity that won't come twice. The half demon propelled himself against the sore wound of the enemy, stomping the soles of his boots into its torso to flip into the air while he revved up Red Queen and charged his revolver.

_Hmmm… not bad. I'll throw in a helping hand. I'm counting this one on you, Nero._

Trish watched as Nero prepared to launch his counterattack and proceeded to assist the young half demon. She stood some distance from the creature and rapidly released rounds of lightning strikes. Although injuries were wearing her strength down, she gave as much as she could to pull off their attack. The punk released his charged shot and continuously fired while staying airborne in the process. In face to the well-coordinated combination, the creature could only grit its teeth as it felt its body pierced by the rain. In spite bounded by the fervid assault, it refused to retreat at all cost. And it wasn't about to go down without a fight as well.

_Uh-oh. That doesn't look good… well, at least not for me._

Turning its back against Nero, the demon looked menacingly at Trish who wasn't too far away from him. Sprinting at full velocity, heavy stomps dashed across the broken flooring towards the female hunter. While at its charge, the creature summoned pillars of current around it, acting as a defending fortress against its adversaries. Nero noticed the sudden change in its pursuit and ceased firing, allowing his frame to land immediately onto the ground. As soon as his feet plunged onto the cold tiles, he exceeded Red Queen and executed Max-Act Streak across the carnage targeting the demon. The lad realized the creature's vantage over the female fighter which placed her at a greater risk than him.

He must get to her before it does.

_Ha-ha, for an instance, how did I mistake Nero for Dante? That thoughtless act of bravery resounded exactly like him I guess. Disregarding your own safety and always trying to save the others just like him huh? Well well, that indeed is the kind of someone Dante needs. Someone he can rely on, someone he can entrust himself to all over again, someone who will save him if he ever falls again. Looks like my job's done after all…_

… _oh yea, and then there's my crappy leg not wanting to budge at a time like this. So guess what, I'll let you call the shots this time. If it's here you wanna stay, let's make sure we give it all out and end it with a bang._

"Get out of there!" Nero screamed at the woman who still had her feet plugged into the ground, discharging the jolts of electricity at the impeding demon. The lynx was just too fast, as though carried by wind, and the young demon hunter could only chase behind it, barely within reach making contact. Despite so, Trish stood still, trail of blood dripping from the corner of her bitten lips as she unleashed all of her energy against the rush. She winced in throe, fighting to her very last breath.

"Let it go Nero! He wants Dante! Get out of here!" The blonde yelled back to the lad behind the creature. "Get to Dante and protect him!"

Upon approaching the injured woman, the creature released all of his defenses expelling them outwards. A part of these attacks headed straight for Trish, bursting through her rain of lightning and collided straight into her torso. The impact lifted her off the ground, damaging her immensely as rivers of blood spilled from her throat. The badly bruised body scraped against the chapped ground over several feet before colliding into a wall. Further wounds began to surmount all over her exposed skin, scratching fresh cuts on the hunter.

"Die, woman."

Before Trish could turn around, the demon stood solemn behind her back. While preparing the final strike, it sensed a raging beat of energy charging towards it. Facing the adversary deviated to him, Nero skipped off the floor, gathering the spiral flames of Red Queen to dive his blade straight towards the creature ahead. The contact caused his flames to clash against the violent strokes of currents piercing against him, eruptive explosions rummaged through the attacks. Debris marking in the background hollered by the taste of impact, scattering bits of fragments carried in the wave. Sharp smashing noises echoed through the air—the tip of the young devil hunter's blade rattled against the long talons from his nemesis. It was quick and agile, setting a pace barely for Nero to keep up. This speed only picked up faster as the minutes rolled by and the punk was beginning to lose sight of the demon's movements.

Stealing a quick peek at his defeated acquaintance, her aura was weak but still beating. The given circumstances were making his high-tail futile. Nero clenched his bringer tightly while he continued sparring with the demon. However he knew he would soon be unable to keep up with it thus he had to end things before it happened. Fisting his bringer into the air, he shouted in coherence to the powers released from his body. Something that he would do usually just before he tri—

_Shit. He can't trigger without Yamato._

The familiar action the punk gestured assured Trish that he had just tried to trigger.

Nero grimaced as he noticed the demonic enigma had ditched his body.

_He completely forgot he abandoned it._

That full-blown opening resulted in the fatality of his decision for the demon leaped to his back, plunging his acute claws into his back. The incision travelled downwards from his shoulder blades to the arch of his waist, cascading blood in the most horrific gruesome way seen. Nero's irises stopped animating while the wound continued to build the burning sore. As the pain suddenly amplified throughout his body, he coughed more plasma out of his mouth before plummeting onto the cold lifeless floor. Glaring intently at the demon which stood beside him, he grabbed the handle of his sword tightly and swung towards it carelessly. Nevertheless the damage dealt to his body had greatly reduced most of his strength and speed which made his attempts pointless. Before the blade could touch his adversary, it had preemptively dodged the attack and latterly stomped one of its feet on Nero's wielding arm.

"Your attempts are futile."

"Oh yeah? Then let me get up so I can kick your ass."

"Though you claim you are not the Son of Sparda, I can smell his scent emitting all over your body. Are you his mate?"

Nero blushed at the sound of that vocabulary. It felt embarrassing for obvious _or unknown_ reasons.

Trish amassed the balance of her strength clambering across the jagged tiles, trying to get to the kid's side. The minutes slipping by had begun to regenerate her wounds silently, but there wouldn't be enough time to recover at full capacity to battle the demon once more. Her miscalculations had gravely misjudged their enemy and this loss would definitely not stop at where it was now.

_Seriously where the fuck are you Dante?_

"Even if you don't wish to say anything, it is fine by me—since it doesn't change the fact that taking you will lead me to him eventually."

_Oh hell._

As soon as the demon ended its sentence, it protruded its claw once more and gashed across Nero's chest this time. The punk widened his eyes from the brutal slash before he drifted into complete coma from the excessive lost of blood from both sides of his body. Wearing a complete look of helplessness afar, Trish gaped at the torments inflicted on the kid mercilessly. As soon as the agitated demon hunter was knocked out cold, the demon picked its victim from the ground and carried the motionless body over its shoulders. Despite her desperate efforts to get up from the floor, the female hunter could only witness her acquaintance being held captive by their enemy.

Stillness soon settled into the environment as all motions came to a halt. The moonlight hit on the bluish skin of the nemesis once more, but it soon faded into pale skin tone. Corners of his silhouette slowly shrunk from its animalistic state as its body tamed humanly. Trish watched the transformation in utter shock while the former demon paced up to her turned completely human. Even disturbingly, the wounds it had taken previously had completely healed.

His velvet long black hair fluttered in the softness of the light wind. Eyes illuminated that of the golden drops of the sun similar to his demon form. Porcelain-like complexion reflected as though white light against effulgence. He stood before Trish in the pair of completely torn black denim worn throughout the battle since he made entrance.

_What on earth have I done? He's more than just a puck as far as my speculations are concerned. I should have grabbed the opportunity and retreated with Nero. It's my fault things escalated to this point. What should I do now? What can I do now? That figure of his, he can't be a—_

"Tell the Son of Sparda that if he wants his mate back, he should know what to do." The human figure spoke aloud and subsequently made a turn for the exit with the punk unconscious on his shoulders.

"Wha-who are you?" Trish stuttered in between words, apparently still in much weakened state.

"I am Vladimir. Leader of Vientos. And I will have my revenge on the Son of Sparda."

Renouncing the battle, his shadow dithered out of Trish's sight before she gave into crick passing out cold.

* * *

Aite Nero fans, forgive me for bashing him up this badly. He's after all a kid who won't go down without a fight right?


	12. Episode 12: Just like Old Times

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry.**

* * *

Stillness. Tranquility almost dominated the arena of the dead but a faint heartbeat begged to differ.

The motionless body of the blonde-haired demon lied on the broken flooring. Her breathing sounded peaceful but a little weak. As she slumbered, the dreams wouldn't stop haunting her very soul.

"_No matter what happens, don't ever come out of here alright boys?"_

"_Ma-mommy… don't go!"_

"_Be strong now my precious darlings. Nothing's gonna happen to us. Daddy will protect us like he always did so."_

"_Yeah! Daddy never loses!"_

"_That's right daddy never loses! Now take care of your baby brother here for mommy okay? If you hear anything later, be sure to not make a single sound at all. And don't bully your little brother over here when I'm not watching."_

_The blue-clothed boy pouted in slight disappointment._

_The red-clothed boy grabbed his mother's hand tightly._

"_Where are you going mommy?"_

"_I'm gonna bring daddy back to us." She relieved a gentle smile from her face._

"_Can't we go with you?"_

"_It's better if you boys stayed here. Mommy won't be long. I'll be back before you even know it sweetie." She patted the soft silvery hair of the red-clothed boy._

"_Hurry back mommy. Don't worry, I will protect Dante." Said the blue-clothed boy, tugging his little brother close into his embrace. The red-clothed boy retreated comfortably into his elder brother's warmth, grabbing his arm to ease his nervousness._

"_I know you will, Vergil. You always do." She smiled once more, also caressing the side of the older brother's hair._

_Leaning forward, she hugged both boys tightly in her arms and whispered gently in between them._

"_I love you both."_

_As she closed the doors of the kitchen cabinet, the boys held back their tears assuring her that they would be fine until she came back. It was equally tough for her, but she had to keep it in to return the assurance. She had faith and confidence in her kids, husband as well as herself._

_She set off in the ablaze of her apartment, searching in the depths of the dark sky._

"_We'll never be apart…"_

Then she startled awake in the same containment of the debris. The same broken statue still stood in the middle of the cathedral hall. All of the bleeding had stopped—even the severe gash above her eye had healed, though there were still tiny signs of the flesh conjoining together at the end of the injury. Nonetheless, generally brand new.

Trish sat up from her bedridden stance, muscle screaming from the stings and sore in batter. She appeared dazed, moving scenes screening in her eyes just before she passed out. Looking at her lazy hand, Luce sat in her clasps whereas the other half went missing. Her eyes searched around for Ombra but her body stayed in place. The dark twin laid not five feet from her left. She checked her shiny silvery pistol before tucking it in the back of her back pocket. Cinematic continued rolling in her head but the clearest footage her mind captured was the moment the creature gashed Nero. Chills ran down her spine thinking if the kid would ever make it.

Demon or not, any damage through heart would no doubt kill him. Not even Dante would be spared from a situation like that.

While she had finally mustered enough strength to pick herself up, the wooden entrance of the church cracked and shattered into broken pieces. The rumble of the carnage alerted the female in the room, not that she faltered at all though. A breach full of wind following suit, trailing the shadowy figure distorted in the silhouette which appeared amidst the impact.

"Trish!" The words came out echoic, resonating in the air particles. That was indisputably the voice credence to a full-fledged demon, of one that she had been so familiar with.

As the figure walked out from the smoky combustion from the source, he watched the blonde on the floor afar. Red armor clasped the biceps of his upper arm to his torso, as well as a portion of his shin and ankle. Light beamed from the core of his chest, similar to the glow in his eyes hiding behind the similar crimson reptilian skin. The rest of his body, specifically most of his lower appendage, plastered blackly with refined details of muscles contouring the surface. From waist down, the red armor continued to extend outwards in the shape of three winged arcs. Beneath these arcs, energy illuminated softly.

Bare footsteps patrolled the ground. Jagged knuckles protruded while gripping the handle of the silver claymore latched on its back. Now the demon stood before Trish but cordially extended his talons helping the female up. He had picked the onyx weapon along the way and duly handed it to the female demon as he had intended to. Defenseless, she leaned on the fellow creature while he settled her on a piece of dormant furniture to rest. Visibly sweeping across her pistol, the precious appeared unharmed and hence she tucked it away with the light twin.

"What happened?" The glow on his body began to fade.

"Someone came to join the negotiation."

"And who won?"

"The new contestant came and took the prize away."

The scales slowly subsided in black smoke as leathered material resurfaced in replacement.

"He won by a mile, huh?"

The mask on his face melted in the haze as white silvery bangs cascaded before wispy eyes.

"He wouldn't have if you got your ass here earlier." She retorted defiantly.

The winged arc softened and dropped in the fluttering night wind like fabric.

"Well, triggering was as fast as I could speed."

The noise in his throat had diminished gradually, sounding astoundingly human with the same resonance.

"It still wasn't fast enough. Didn't you sense him or something—I mean, you did sleep with him after all, didn't you?" She questioned hesitantly, since the effects of mating were well receptive.

The black fumes have dissipated into the space. Even the chest piece had vanquished, leaving behind a regular black-clothed top fastened across by metal buckles.

"Speaking of that, were you in vortex or something? It took me to trigger before I finally felt his scent or aura to even find this place."

"Vortex? No… we're in the open the whole time. Unless you were blocked out. That demon, could have been that strong." She quivered lightly.

The maroon lined base hem covering over tough leather boots strolled to the furniture and sat beside the female.

"I was making a trip back to the motel when I heard the kid's cry in my head."

"I'm sorry Dante. I didn't protect him."

Trish looked at her trusty companion regretfully, feeling unworthy of his forgiveness. It was the first time she had messed up so terribly. Getting Nero involved in this blunder only made matters worse. Guilt continued churning from inside out, creeping up her conscience. The re-enactment of the ex-Order member dispatched before her eyes caused her to flinch in regret. If only she had listened to her worries. If only she had been more careful in her observations. If only she had taken the right steps. If only-

"Don't sweat it. That's the privilege of being a demon. To make mistakes and not taking the blame afterwards."

The elder took the cigarette canister from his pocket and whiffed the bitterness in the cold. He folded his leg over the other as he exhaled the poison. His face remained stoic, as though conjuring a plan which he never made practice of. The deafening silence continued to amplify on its own—both parties lost in thoughts. Halfway through the tobacco, the devil hunter dropped his vile and stepped over it to extinguish the burning tip. He felt the stress piling. Even the pent-up anger beneath his stolid expression distinguished itself. Smoking had rightfully reduced to its futile state for a fact yet it was unnerving. Pique fed a line of red ants chewing on his skin, painless but pissed-as-hell irritating, quickly wearing his patience thin. He slotted his hands into the front pockets of his chapped pants, crossing the other leg over again.

"Who did it?" Dante finally spoke to diffuse the tension, with some coarseness in his tone.

"I'm not exactly comfortable taking the words of a demon bluntly but one thing's for sure, he's looking for you." Trish folded her arms inwards, the confidence slowly instilling back in her.

"Who is?"

"The demon. In fact, he's the leader of the pack."

"And he's looking for me?"

"That's the last thing he said before he left."

"Man, that doesn't even sound sexy_…_"

"He also did say if the Son of Sparda wanted his mate back, he'll know what to do."

As soon as her sentence ended, a loud discharge entered their premises. The blaring rustle of combusted engine killed the lull when it rode through the initial entrance torn. Climbing off the roaring vehicle, Lady watched the duo afar while she stopped before them. She took a visible count at the obvious deficit and switched the machine off. Trish watched the second woman leaned back onto her ride and then back to Dante who hadn't spoken a word since.

"What took you so long?" The devil hunter jeered lightly.

"I'm only human. I can't just trigger and run on two feet."

She scrutinized the arena lightly. Her new companion fell short of sight.

"Where's my boy?" Lady demanded.

"Kidnapped." Dante grunted at her remark, looking more than just the average level of being irritated.

"Seriously?" The brunette removed her shades, staring at the devil hunter.

"It's not his fault. I screwed up." Trish responded remorsefully, shifting the glance onto her. Lady remembered her blonde friend chasing after the kid while she stayed behind accompanying the elder male. Thoughts slowly processed through her mind. It was no mean feat to defeat either Trish or Nero, and even more so together. This time the element of surprise had proven otherwise.

The weight of silence shifted once more, piling its mass on the shoulders of all three hunters. Faces hung with anxiety and hands muffed in uncertainty. Lady fidgeted with the mini-revolvers on her back holder in her hands. Trish held Luce in her right hand and watched the moonlight reflecting its untainted barrel. While the girls were containing their worry in whichever way effective, the elder hunter sat still on the bench, almost without a pulse or a sign of mortality. Air was solitary in his space, much discerning the existence of anything else.

He wasn't _not_ thinking about anything.

He was _fully_ occupied on the contrary.

Reaching back for his cigarette case, he realized the canister empty for the first time. He had never once forgotten to refill his vile. It wasn't an insatiable quench for thirst—more likely a habitual behavior to rely on whenever he needed to keep himself calm, or the occasional random urge out of boredom. The old man covered the lid back up and left it on the furniture, pushing his palms against his knees while he got up from his seat. The ladies instantly gave him all the spotlight he deserved.

"Where are you going?" Said the military-armed woman.

"You needa ask?" Dante smirked as he stole a glance at the broken statue casually.

"Need some company?" The blonde companion looked up from her position.

"Could use some. I'll be having my hands full with an angry kid."

The ladies laughed genuinely, enjoying some good old times together. It had been forever since the last time they had fought side by side—a long run in the making of foes turning into friends. It felt nostalgic as it was, carousing in the glory of war and honor.

_If the demons scampered in disgrace, they would simply take the battle to them._

_Raining bullets in wildfire till nothing was left standing._

_Tearing every single enemy apart so flesh disrepaired beyond recognition._

_Defiling faces and amputating limbs till they would cry and plead mercy._

_Blood would dance in the altar of devil sacrifices; kindred revelations in the path of repent._

They were one complete unit once more. Defeat had never stepped up to them.

Dawn set upon their faces as gloom faded in the sunny richness. The heat touched their cold skins.

"I'll stir around their hideout." Lady grinned with excitement. "Information fresh from the oven."

"If you're gonna do that, make sure you go all out. We can't disappoint our audiences, can't we?" Dante winked at the vivacious woman.

"Is that the price for stealing another man's treasure?" Trish chuffed at the teenaged taunt.

"Hmmm… that's the price for stealing another devil's mate."

"Do I smell love in the air?" The brunette chattered aloud. Her human instincts had told her bluntly so.

"It's never too old to fall in love." The blonde joined in the laughter. Her demon instincts at ease with the humane thought.

"Girls are all too frilly about romance. If you have time for it, then let's get this party started!"

* * *

Never aggravate the Son of Sparda for he'll never stop at anything to get what he wants. Other than that more importantly, will he make it in time to rescue Nero. What would Nero's outcome be at the hands of demon population that feeds.

The old man has no time to lose.

I've always liked to picture the partnership between the ladies and Dante. There's no doubt a good reason why these girls haven't ditched him and vice versa. Gonna work on Nero now. Hang in there punk!


	13. Episode 13: The Son of Sparda

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry.**

* * *

_I took some time because I was having doubts with my own work. I was starting to worry that I couldn't deliver what I have planned and in turn, I scraped this chapter a few times before finally getting it up. In times like these, reviews have always been my form of consolation and thus counted on them for support. So returning the comfort before 2011 ends,_

_**SirenaLoreley** – Thanks for the chapterly reviews! They are small little actions that go a long way for me and I am very grateful for them always._

_**Nefarious Seraph 13** – Your comments are precious. I mean when I read it, it really sets me thinking about what you said, so you don't have to apologize about anything. But firstly, I didn't use the thesaurus (laughs). I understand the scene was poorly delivered. It was because I tried to send another form of expression through that chapter (which I think I may have failed it?). But yes, the examples you have given looks disastrous so I'm going back to tweak it. Apart from that, the reason why everyone seems like they're taking it lightly is because I figured the ladies wouldn't want to step into affairs which are meant to be solved by the old man himself. I haven't touched on the remorse factor on Dante himself as well. I'll keep the style underdressed, so hopefully it gets better for readers too. Thanks again, and hope you'll continue supporting this work._

_**DoubleEdge13** – Thanks! Hopefully it gets better for you too._

_**JuxtaposedAlbatross** – Much thanks for liking the twin's factor too! Can't help loving the twins more!_

_**ladysubaru83** – Will do my best to continue! Thanks for the support._

_Last but not least, Happy New Year to all!_

* * *

Jolt. Vision cleared up by the jolt of unfamiliarity to the surroundings.

Nero struggled to open his eyes. After a couple of blinks, he realized he was no longer in the church he last recalled. Staring up, the cracked ceiling in sight had discolored and the fan dangled from it spun slowly due to breezing from the window. He hurled sideways as he pushed his body up with his bringer slow yet painfully. When his body shifted from its original position, he noticed he was topless yet wrapped as if a mummy with straggling bandages all round.

"I won't do that if I were you."

It didn't require time to think before the injured ex-Order member reached to his back attempting to withdraw Blue Rose, to find it not there.

"It'll be better if you just sit still and stop moving around."

Desperately he searched the premises, heightening all his alertness.

"If you're looking for your gun, it's right here with me."

And there it was, the source.

The porcelain-clad apparition moved towards Nero from the shadows. Sighting it closer, it was far from what the young half demon had thought of it as. Despite just being exceptionally pale and coated in onyx black, it looked abnormally human; in fact disappointingly, more human than the ex-Order knight appeared. However, a pair of golden orbs then suddenly glistened and returned him a look while moving towards him. That knocked a couple of notches off the human-looking chart and settled the knight's disarray. Now standing before him, the comfortable lair Nero sat in was invaded by a stench of his irrepressible aura. _Aura?_ Maybe it was just the unique odor of a demon.

Black slabs of hair collapsed on the white sheets while the antagonist brushed his hand across the punk's jaw. The sharpness of his fingernails caressing over soft facial skin caused mild blood to seep through. The wounded ex-knight glared menacingly at his assaulter, holding his breath still while staying cautious of the other male.

"Relax. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be awake now."

He was right—apparently he had no intentions of killing Nero. Despite knowing that, there was no way Nero would be grateful for it. In fact, he would have preferred if he was kept alive for another fight to the death.

"Should've done so else you'll have to regret that." He raised his bringer and slapped the other male's hand away from his face. His body felt weak as though he had been running for three days straight without rest; muscles screaming, tendons yelling and movements ever so slight were rioting throughout his body. Containing his agony, he retracted his hand back, splurging every ounce of energy to make sure nothing gave away.

"I like second chances-" The demon sniffed the scent off Nero once more, startling the ex-Knight. "-especially robbing it from those begged for 'em." He planted the stare into his azure orbs, not a couple of centimeters from his face.

"You…" Nero snarled, disgusted evidently. The onyx-clad demon then dropped his weight onto the stale sheets, sitting just beside the hybrid who remained motionless. Fighting back in this current condition was very unwise. Besides, before devising his foolproof escape, he wanted answers to his questions.

"… What do you want with Dante?"

Vladimir felt amused.

"I'm gonna kill him."

The half demon almost heard a laugh escaped his throat. _That old man wouldn't be alive and kickin' if it was as simple as that._"Better come up with a plan. Maybe lure him with some hot chicks, striptease and oh-you know what-forget it, lay a deck of pizzas instead. That'll definitely work." He mocked with a pinch of that sourly thing, _ah yes_-sarcasm and a bucket load of it. Nero was surprised he remembered details about the old man Lady had shared with him during the trip. He realized he shouldn't have even paid attention in the first place. _Amazing, why do I remember so much?_

"Are you ridiculing me?" There was a drastic drop in his tone.

Nero shook his head ignorantly, justifying his suggestions were plain truths. "It's facts about Dante that you should _know _at least if, you really wanna _kill _him. Everything in the demon world wants him _dead_, but no one exactly _planned_ how to do so." He spoke with deliberate delays, emphasizing each key word with a long pause. Well calibered by a gift to mock, Nero was best at it.

"Quite the mouth, aren't you? The son of Sparda has quite the taste."

"I beg to differ. I don't have preference for alcohol-tobacco-pizza scented old people. Let me repeat, old people are not my thing." The bedridden hybrid spat at his nemesis' lang.

The demon laughed. Oh he had _so_ believed Nero felt nothing for the son of Sparda. "You don't have to hold it so tough." Bred by pure animalistic intuition, he _had _to believe that this punk was just putting up a strong front—especially when the scent of the man who took him was emitting from all over his body. "Tell me how good he was in your bed."

The embarrassment felt like it was about to burst through Nero's face. The demon had a resonating voice, not the same yet similar to Dante's. It was the kind of tone akin to pillow-talking, thus rattling every jitter inside the ex-Knight. It was far more than humiliation Nero felt back then. Under the circumstances prevailing then, only disgust should have loomed all over his world. And the old man would have been an apple on a target, just a mark that he must take out by eliminating his very existence. Out of desperation, _that_ should be the only thing biting Nero to the core, for vengeance and payback.

But it remained that, something in the back of his mind was too hard to ignore. The _real_ truth that Nero had buried—the reflection of his thoughts at the point of impact. They were nothing alike to what nature should have progressed. All the things that he had desired then were wrong. They shouldn't have existed. The worry began to consume the littlest leftovers of his defense, where fear bred in its new lair. He was afraid to uncover the truth that he had been trying to conceal. He didn't believe that his fray strands of faith hanging were burnt in that heat. Correction, _willingly_ burnt in it.

"Did I have you by the throat? Or was he so good that you're wetting your pants at the thought of it?" The demon continued to ridicule his prey, with the Sparda scent growing stronger in return. Taking a good look at his victim's features now, he noticed the youthfulness of hybrid. He appeared too young to be considered for a mate selection, or rather eligible as one. While continuing his visual studies, Nero grunted at the vivid stares thrown by the antagonist.

"You aren't getting laid, are you?" Nero mocked sarcastically, "Don't even think about it, you sick pervert."

"Hmmm… I wasn't thinking of that. On the contrary, are you?" The demon grinned from one end of his face to the other, mild vestige of his fangs protruding. He felt excited as he continuously inhaled the curt aroma that occasionally breathed through his nostrils. Was this the scent that had enthralled thousands of fellow demons whom had succumbed to it, to only subsequently be slaughtered till no remnants had been left behind? Was this how she had been seduced by it as well? Was this exhilarating stimulus the reason how she had gotten herself crumbling by the feet of the son of Sparda?

Wretched memories came flooding in upon the news of her death. He would never forgive the one who had taken his precious token and had only sworn to destroy all there was connecting to the felon. Looking at the hybrid on the bed, there was justice to uphold. He wanted it right there, _right now_.

Lacking the grace of benevolence, he pounced onto the unaware ex-Knight. The assailant grabbed Nero's wrist to the sides of the bed as the effervescence continued to excite him further. His actions were turning erratic while the thirst in his gut craved for its quench—whatever that could simmer it down. He shot those golden globes through Nero's sapphires and demanded his prey to look at him, and submit to him.

"—the hell?" Nero yelled, every sore screaming from the collision. When he had settled the tensed fever, he found himself in a similar position that he never, _ever_, wanted to be in again.

The demonling extended his pointed tongue and licked along the pale neckline to the corners of Nero's ear. Nero squirmed in disgust, but feeling powerless against the demon. Regurgitation swelled in his stomach threatened to upset and unfold its demise, wilting the ex-Knight to flinch in plain repulse. Quicker than an adrenaline rush, the demonic aphrodisiac urged the demonling to violate its prey. He grazed his lips along the reddened lobes of the young hybrid, sucking on the heated soft flesh.

"… you nymphomaniac… you enjoy this, don't you?"

The demonling released his other hand and caressed the naked skin presented. The slight toned lines patterning the ex-Knight's torso watered his lips. Tracing back down, he lingered around the narrow clavicle and the nape of the hybrid's neck, soaking in the pure bliss of his delicious fragrance emitting. Straddling on Nero now, he bent forward while crushing his lips onto the knight's, still restricting all his movements in the wristlock. Nero grunted from the kiss, struggling desperately for his freedom away from the demon.

"G-get…lost! Arrrghhhh!" The halfling yelped in anger, stealing a breath of air while pulling away. His heartbeat pulsating wildly further enhanced the domineering stench of the Sparda odor. Nero was completely oblivious to it and had only assumed that the demon restraining him was just in heat or something. Nonetheless whatever the reason, it was repelling and nothing sweet like strawberries and cream.

"Don't reject me you fool!" The demonling screamed while Nero's limbs only fought harder against him. Completely soaked in anger, he brought a strong hand across the halfling's pretty face till the corner of his lips torn and light blood streamed downwards. Half of his naked torso flung with the motion of being yanked to the side of the bed. Nero turned around with a maddening grin, tongue tasting the blood, messy hair covering his eyes while he suddenly bore fangs in between his lips.

"You're the foolish one, demon." The human tone harrowed into a demonic hail. Icy orbs slowly hued in bright neon luminosity. He lost the smile as he returned a crude glare at the offender, heaving deep breaths of agony and pain.

The demon blinked twice before noticing the purple energy gathering on his prey's bringer. Something incredibly immense erupted from the youth's body and the flux threw him off balance. He watched in suspense as an apparition detached itself from the youth's body before Nero yelled and faded into coma once more. Scaled in ribbons of blue and black, it couldn't_have_ been… Until the blurry distortion stabilized on its own, the silvery ebony mask conformed to its face glared back in animosity, waiting to be addressed to.

"Have you summoned the _son of Sparda_ to meet your doom?"

* * *

**Happy New Year to all****and all the best in 2012!**


	14. Episode 14: Scars

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry.**

* * *

_So if you can't get a word in__  
__It's because I don't care what you think__  
__Don't be alone inside__  
__A world that's filled with make-believe__  
__- Erase my scars, Evans Blue_

Search. The desperate hunt had begun.

The trio might have to slay through more demons than they had ever done before. There was no other alternative. According to the map Lady had drawn out for him, the location of the lair should be within his vicinity. Staring as far as the eye could see, Dante only saw trees, trees and more of it.

"You sure we're not lost?"

"The coordinates are correct."

"She didn't set us up, did she?"

"Calm down Dante. I doubt she would since this concerns Nero. I wouldn't be that sure if there was only you in the picture though."

Trish observed her surroundings. The trees were still and the grass was dry. Neither were there any other sight of living things. It was broad daylight but the environment was plain ghostly. _Even Hell's more bustling than this..._The stillness worried her.

"We should split up and look around. I have a feeling we're right where we wanted. Just gotta find a gate, door, something like that."

The blonde snapped her fingers and pointed in the opposite direction from her position, signaling her partner to scout around the area. The old man didn't need to be told twice.

It had been over twelve hours since he last drew a cigarette but his mind was sharper than it had been in months. It would be no mean feat to rescue the kid from the new enemies. He recalled the first encounter with the vixen in the cabin—the one that he almost had his ass kicked if the kid didn't show up in time. They were surprisingly strong. So in order to fix that, he needed to level his head to fight out of the coup he was about to set foot in.

Looking at his gears, his good old pal Rebellion and babies Ebony and Ivory seemed ready for a helluva party installed for them. However Dante wasn't, or he felt as if he wasn't quite ready to put an end to this. It was uncanny of him to hesitate a good fight but he had his insecurities. He should just ring in and take the prize home but he wasn't too sure if the prize wanted to leave with him.

If the kid says no, why the hell _bother_?

That obviously didn't validate as a reason not to save Nero but truthfully, the demon hunter had his own doubts. Doubts about himself, about his own devil, about Nero and this whole goddamn fiasco. Why did his devil lose control back then? What did it see that his human eye didn't? What did it taste that his lips couldn't pick up? There had to be a reason behind this whole demon-gone-wild shit. Dante wanted to find out so badly.

On the other hand, there was Nero; who would never forgive him as far as he could tell. Resigning to fate seemed like the only option available. Besides, he was still in the midst of his own self-discovery. A discovery leading to his unspoken awareness (or _concern_) arising from an unknown corner in his mind.

Awareness of what? That was an answer Dante wanted to find out as well.

Rustling sounds of the dried leaves gathered on his feet. How long had he been walking down the same path? He could no longer hear nor sense Trish within his proximity. He was alone. The silence reminded him.

The days he spent in Fortuna slowly began rewinding in his head. He couldn't remember much of the killing other than his flying acrobats around the Savior. _Man, that was fun…_ Of the stronger memories he recanted, he remembered vividly when he had his first battle with the kid in the chapel, then subsequently their encounter in the room. Especially... the _room_. The first time he watched the kid as the clamor of his devil bellowed. A tinge of pain swam its way into his heart, unraveling wounds forgotten long ago, as well as the desire to call out the name he yearned for so much.

But no.

He couldn't.

It wasn't… his brother.

Gripping the fabric on his chest, the devil hunter tightened his chest within his palm. The pain continued to feel so familiar with the make-believe comfort ever so wincing. It was the feeling of losing, the hollowness that grew with time. A hole that could never be filled. No matter the amount of whatever you might throw in, it could never fill up. Like a drought, emotions were so dried they would shed. Piecing the fragments up, more and more flashbacks wriggled their way through into his sockets.

He saw Nero. The crying face muffled by his hand, tears streaming down red puffy eyes drying off all over his cheeks. He felt Nero's legs. They were trembling in the rugged grasp from his other arm, toes curling up tensely, and veins almost surfacing. He tasted Nero's blood. He sniffed the metallic scent parading in the air, sinking into his demonic nature. He heard the voice. It had been yelling and screaming for mercy, helplessly pleading for forgiveness. _Yes, beg for it Verg—_

Shit.

_What the hell was that?_

Navy blue colored the canvas in his thoughts. Crimson red splashed like droplets before they sank into the royalty, and then faded to satin sapphire. _Wait... This isn't what I saw! I saw Nero! I saw the damn punk!_ The realm closed into Dante, surroundings painted in a shade that he would never forget. It was a tone that belonged to his beloved brother, a gradient that no one else had beneath their arms. He searched for the crimson remnants amidst the sapphire, but they had vanished before he could reach out to them.

_Nero!_

The old man desperately whispered under his breath. Reality and hallucination were playing tricks with his eyes. How could he have the duo mixed up? Vergil, his beloved twin connected by birth, by love, by commitment. What he shared with his twin was more than just telepathy—they were two entities that made each other complete. Whereas Nero, he was… a stranger. A stranger who happened to be part-demon. A stranger who might have shared the bloodline. A stranger who somehow possessed the soul of Nelo-Angelo as he weaved Yamato in hand. A stranger who had an attitude tough as steel, but a smile that of a glowing sun…

_Wait._

Did he just commented on Nero's smile? Since when did he started taking notice of the kid's smile?

_Stop thinking about the halfling, he does not concern you._A hollow echo demanded inside.

Dante was gradually losing his mind.

"TELL ME ALREADY!"

He hollered at the top of his voice, enough to drive birds away if there were any resting on branches. He wanted an answer from himself. No one else was present then other than him and Nero. But he wasn't _alone_. It was about time the other one overseeing everything made his statement or there would be no ending to it. Dante tapped his foot against the hard ground, ripples of his shadow moving slightly.

A rusty scent of wind meandered through the woods, along came mild gray clouds covering the sun up. The brightness toned down in the surroundings as the wind died down with the saturation. His shadow dithered as it crawled onto his back, retreating from the ground completely. Soon it reached his thighs, waist, and nape before finally the hilt of his silvery hair. The onyx mesh continued to extend to the tip of his fingers before they filled his entire silhouette. In an instance, the shadow pulled away, strands of its ink stretched and lingering away from Dante's back, until they were fully detached from one another.

Gradually, the blackness washed away from its body, leaving a duplicate of the devil hunter in plain sight, but discolored in contrast.

"Long time no see, Dante."

It waved without animosity, grinning in the casual way Dante would always do so.

"Ah yes. It has been long. So now, wouldn't you tell me what you know, fellow demon?" He demanded with a smirk across his face, using his form of endearment on the mirage of himself. Then the old man turned around and watched his replica trotting forward. This replica infused by his shadow had always watched his back, since it was already a part of _him_.

"I may be a part of you but I would still prefer to be called by my own name." It snickered lightly before addressing back to the old man's need, "So, what can I do you for?"

"Tell me what you saw."

"I've seen plenty, just not too sure what is it you're referring to."

"Don't get cocky with me. You know what I am referring to."

"Oh do I? Let me _see_… do you mean that time with Lyla from Love Planet when you banged her so hard she could be heard two streets away or-wait, or the brunette you picked up from the bar who gave you a blow job that was to die for? Oh wait! I have more—"

A silver bullet shot through its forehead while it was still in the midst of its sentence. It watched the devil hunter pointing Ebony at him, smoke emitting from the barrel's tip. But the hole on its head quickly healed though, since it wasn't meant to be a kill shot right from the beginning.

"You know I can put you back in Hell in this image of mine. I am quite the celebrity back there."

A small sigh escaped from its lips, before conforming into a tiny smile. It knew what Dante wanted. Besides, it wasn't his usual cool to lose it with a couple of sarcasm. Although it might not be able to see through Dante's eyes despite being a part of him, it could still watch the hunter. What Dante wanted to find out was what did it see him doing. Truthfully speaking, it wasn't like it did not see it, but rather there was nothing it could have done. What the hunter did was beyond anybody's control, and completely irrational.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Just tell me."

Taking a deep breath, it sneaked its finger beneath its chin and brushed lightly. "You were out of control Dante. You were completely out of it."

His confession met with silence.

"Even if you tried to resist it, you know that your human side has no control over your demon side. No matter how strong you have become, your demon side remained obedient not because he was afraid of you. He just didn't feel the need to go against you. That day, what snapped inside wasn't you, it was him. And you were powerless to stop him."

"Did he… see somethi-_someone_…?"

It hesitated. An ominous feeling warning him that should the truth be made known, it might devastate the hunter further. Other than watching Dante did what he did, it heard his devil's thoughts. They were wild, angry and impetuous at that point. It became so from what it saw. It saw a figment of Dante's pain, longings and hope. Then the trio exploded within altogether, which involuntarily triggered his actions in return. All this happened because of the lament rotting inside Dante. He caused it because of his unwillingness to let go of the past.

Or perhaps, that was what Dante was _led_ to believe as well.

Day by day, it had watched the hunter hiding his feelings, pretending they never existed, pretending that the pain was just an illusion. He would look for an output to sooth the angst he felt inside but he never once tried to rectify the hurt. He would exhaust his human body until he could barely hold it anymore and drift into slumber, but to only be continually haunted in his dreams by the same turmoil. He would always dream of the same scene—the boiling pits of hell where his brother suffered and as he reached out, his brother would only sink deeper into the darkness. He would wait by the pit with his hand still out, even though only pain-inflicted screams came from the pit. Every time he yelled to his brother, he would call his name and tell him to grab his hand until he eventually woke up. When he had woken up, the fear never left. Those bad days dominated most of his sleeping hours. However, sometimes he was lucky. When he was, he would be spared from the cruelty. A couple of times when he was really in luck, he would have beautiful moments like having picnics or waking up in bed with his beloved brother together, so much so that he wouldn't wake for over a day. Then he would wake up looking vague and pale, refusing to eat or drink, depriving his body of the supplement he needed.

_Some dreams felt too real that they hurt, while others felt too good to be true._

Then tears would dribble.

Because even if he fell back into sleep, it was no longer the same dream he had hoped.

He didn't let go. He just couldn't.

"Well then… are you prepared for the truth?" It sighed remorsefully.

"Just… say it."

"He saw Vergil. In Nero, _inside_ of Nero."

_Crack._

"What do you mean inside of Nero?" Dante questioned doubtfully.

_Crack._

"Ask your demon side. Only he can see it. I can only hear his thoughts. I can only do so much."

_Crack. Split._

"Then his thoughts, what did it say?"

_Crack._

"You should learn to face yourself Dante. Getting answer from me won't cure you."

_Split._

"Doppelgang—"

Just then, Dante disappeared before its sight. A blink of an eye and he was gone. It ran towards the spot the elder stood earlier and stopped just a little before it, noticing a piece of rubble dropping into a patch of blackness traveling deep beneath the ground. The passage looked endless without a bottom from the lack of light. As it planned to chase after the hunter, it heard distant rapid gunshots echoing from the hole, followed by some hilarious yapping that sounded like Tarzan mimics.

"Nothing to worry, I guess." Doppelganger jested, decided to search for the help of two lovely ladies instead.

* * *

It felt like the worst headache he had in ages. Nero opened his eyes and waited for the grogginess to dissipate. As his vision stabilized, he saw metallic bars before him. Checking his environment, it reeked of mold over structures built from stone. He also noticed there were no lights other than the lit lamps along the corridor, seemingly not even a window for a breath of fresh air. No doubt, this was true imprisonment.

Locked up in a cell was a first time for Nero.

The closest scenario he had was being grounded in the headquarters' disciplinary room. That was inclusive of starving him from dinner too.

The next thing Nero inspected was his physical damage. Loose bandages he remembered before he passed out were still draping all over, and his outerwears were only thrown over his torso. The gash he remembered sustaining had disappeared from his chest, as though it never happened. _How the…_ The ex-Order knight couldn't fathom it for the pain felt as real as it had been inflicted. He quickly removed the messy rolls from his body and slipped his clothes back on, all three layers of it. Aches still reverberated from other sores, apparent that the pack wasn't kind enough to have him nursed. Still, the missing wound intrigued him the most. It made no sense.

Then he noticed his gears were gone. That certainly felt like the worst news of the day. Looking down and staring at what seemed like infinity, his bringer still did not respond to him. It had been like that since… since the moment he returned the blade to Dante. When he tried to trigger in the last battle, it was no longer heeding his commands. Had he only been able to achieve demonic power through the blade then? If so, what did it imply? Was he nothing like Dante, a true half blood, with true powers inherited from Sparda? Was he actually just a mere human who possessed a special arm that could synchronize with demonic power therefore now without it, thus reduced to a helpless being?

What is he, demon or human?

They had him captured, locked up and empty handed. Despite that, Nero would never allow he to feel weak because of the circumstances presented. He just needed time to gather the bits and pieces together to figure out what they were planning. First, clearly he still had some value that they wanted to make use out of him. With the floor covered in dirt and from the lack of windows, it was highly possible that he had been locked up in a dungeon, or somewhere not visible in plain sight. Then slowly walking towards the bars, he squinted through the corner and noticed there were no guards watching him at all. _How quaint_, the ex-Order knight thought, supposedly he being a prisoner of some importance, ironically.

"Psst! Hey you!" A soft whisper rang in his ears. Nero hastily scanned around the area and saw a young captive in the cell opposite to his.

"Yes?" The young hunter questioned back, hopeful that the conversation could lead him to some answers.

"Your hair… they don't look very human. Are you a demon?" The small voice cried, shaky and hesitant with his speech.

The abrupt question took Nero back into the shades, where the light from the corridor could not reach the place he stood. It was the same thing he questioned himself earlier, which he apparently had no clue either. He took a seat back on the floor, mind still thinking of an answer. Not knowing what to reply in the end, he wavered slightly telling the boy, "I… I don't know."

"Oh…" The young voice hung with disappointment audibly, further explaining, "I have heard stories about a demon in silver hair, capable of fighting against demons and saving people. For a moment, I thought you were him… and I thought he really existed."

Nero had the clearest idea of the demon mentioned.

"I know who you're talking about. He does exists… Dante exists."

Scampering to the bars where the light could reach, Nero saw a young boy, a few years younger than him, with bony-like structure and sunken cheekbones. He had brown hair, a shade that reminded him of Kyrie, and golden glistening eyes. His lips were torn, slightly bruised as well, but they were smiling, in awe and glee actually. Taking a good look at the boy now, Nero noticed the boy glowing in radiance, grinning with anticipation.

"He does? Have you seen him? Do you know him! Dante, is that his real name or some stylish alias he uses! Man I—"

"Woah-woah hold your horses kid! Take it easy." Nero managed to stop the questions about to overflow from the boy's mouth. He didn't know Dante was a popular bedtime story character and the thought of it made him chuckled slightly.

The boy stopped instantly, holding back from overwhelming his newfound friend or hero's friend. Nero noticed that the voice had died out and when he decided to look, those glowing eyes welcomed him again. But those eyes, they brimmed with hope that Nero had never seen before in his entire life, and they breathed of life, in this rotting pit of death.

"I'm sorry… it's just that I haven't met anyone like you before… And your hair reminded me so much of the dem-I mean, Dante. I don't care if he's a demon, he saves lives and that's all that matters."

"How long have you been here?" Nero was certain that the boy did not arrive just a couple of days ago. Still, there was something about those eyes…

The boy smiled a little as Nero began to register his face in his head. "Since forever."

Nero hummed in a low pitch, baffled by the returned response. He waited for the boy to continue, but figured he should help keep the conversation going. "They don't eat you?"

"Wow you seem to already know how things work here." The boy stared at Nero, looking amazed. "They don't feed on the same species."

"You're… one of them." The ex-Order knight spoke deeply, a low sigh forming. "If you are, why are you kept here?"

"Because I'm not a true Vientos. I'm a halfling."

_Halfling. Hybrid. Part-demon. Dante._

All these words were unanimously related to Dante. Staring back into the golden orbs once more, he was reminded of the female vixen he had encountered on the train. They shared the same appalling eyes, shinning like topaz.

"My mom was human." The halfling continued, "But she died a long time ago."

"I'm sorry for your lost." Nero expressed his condolences, understanding the pain of losing someone dear. "How did she died?"

"She died because she couldn't accept me. She couldn't accept the fact she had a part-demon son, or a demon husband."

"She didn't know what your father was?"

The boy shook his head. "Father couldn't bring himself to tell her. One day she found dad eating-you know, eating another human. Fear struck her and she went hysteric. She cursed and swore at Father for lying to her, conning her into their marriage and making her give birth to a monster."

Nero felt an unknown anger gathering inside him. So much for humanity and their benevolence.

"She began distancing herself from us, hiding in the bedroom while refusing to eat or drink. Father realized that his concerns could no longer comfort her so he stayed away from her. It was what mother wanted and the least he could do. But then suddenly one night while we're asleep, she hung herself."

The boy paused for a moment, bringing himself together before he continued. "After mom's death, Father sealed all his faith up. He became hateful towards humans and believed all humans were liars, that they deserved a fate worse than death. He then purged me underground where he won't ever see me again. I guess I reminded him too much of mother… That is why I've been here since forever."

"How do you know so much? You're merely a child."

"My aunt told me all these stories when I was slightly younger than now. She tried to explain why my Father did what he did. She had hoped for my understanding to forgive her brother, my Father. I guess I could somewhat understand it."

The ex-Order knight almost felt sympathetic for the boy in the opposite cell. Banished in the depths of this dungeon alone and abandoned by his very own father. He didn't need to experience it to know how bad it tasted. Besides, Nero wasn't very good with feelings and neither was he good with his words. He could only offer his company in return—at least the boy wasn't alone now that he was around.

"Then how did you come to know of Dante if you have been in this cell the whole time?"

"Aunt Amelié told me all about him! You know, the aunt I've mentioned earlier. She was the only one who willingly ever came down to spend time with me. She told me lotsa stories about the dark knight Sparda and his son. I admire them, especially Dante."

Nero smiled a little upon hearing how big of a hero Dante meant to this boy. "He isn't always superhero quality, kid."

_What'cha say, kid?_

The young hunter snapped as he heard the cocky yet calm voice talking in his head. No doubt, it was Dante's voice. Any connection to Dante could stir his longings even though he fought against it. Subconsciously, he had remembered his voice and right now, he missed it. Then again, he did not want to miss it. He did not want to see Dante ever again, not after what he had done. However, as much as he tried to fight it, he only ended up thinking of him as much as his resistance put up. He wanted that warmth, he needed that warmth to make him feel alive again.

But only the stillness of the cold room embraced him.

And he didn't like it.

"Hey, can I see your face again…?" The boy pleaded softly, worried that Nero would decline.

Shifting his legs towards the bars, the young hunter dragged his body and settled close to where the light could hit him. Dim rays chased the darkness away as visibility returned to his face. The boy watched in awe at every detail sketched over Nero's face. He gleamed with enthusiasm as he scrutinized his features, as though bewildered by an enchanting creature.

"White hair… blue eyes… and flawless skin. You share the traits that aunt spoke of about Dante! You must be a demon! One as strong as Dante is! Are you related to him?"

Related? This boy astounded Nero in more ways than he could think of.

"Don't relate us together. We're never related."

Somehow, a simple word like that took back all the attention Nero spared for the boy. His voice was low and slightly angered, but distinctive that he tried to mask the fury. The knight retreated into the darkness for the second time, this time picking himself up and walking all the way back to the walls. He slid his back against it as he slumped onto the floor, folding his legs. He glued his eyes to the ground while his mind spun in chaos.

_Relate. Relation. Relationship._

Nero had to admit—the number one thing he wanted in this world was to know that he wasn't alone in it. When he grew up with the people in Fortuna, he didn't feel the connection with them. He always felt like he was different. Not because of his arm or his white hair, but just a feeling. Being bad with feelings didn't help him either. He didn't know what to say most of the time and thus far, always ended up throwing cocky remarks that were less than receptive by the Order.

He recalled distinctively once when he had helped a young woman retrieved her purse from a thug on the streets and the woman had only told him to get away from her. He could never forget the fright she wore on her face. It was a simple look of fear.

Another time was while he had been patrolling the streets on night shift. He had overheard his own comrades gossiping about his weird appearance and even went as far as to label him a 'freak'. He remembered the look of disgust they had on their faces, it was detestable.

As he entered into his late teens, he was further ostracized evidently due to his excellent swordsmanship as well as combat skills. Jealousy clouded in the minds of those who envied his abilities, until eventually, he was left alone.

He was tired of the stares. He never doubted his existence but undeniably, there were times he thought it was best if he never came into this world. The people around him rejected all the differences he bore no matter how much he tried to ignore them. It became taxing. After he had decided to stop trying, he shut everyone out of his world. No matter how much Kyrie accepted him for who he was, he already knew she wasn't the one for him. No one was. They were different, in every way he could ever see or imagine. He didn't like people touching his stuff, but she would always tidy his room. He didn't like bright colors but she would always get him shades that were too loud for his taste. He didn't like attending prayers but she would always make him go. He never once said no to her, because he knew how much effort she had put to foster their ties, their,

_Relationship._

To Nero, it all felt like pretense. It even felt like she was forcing herself to commit to all these things revolving around him. Nero supposed she still had the fear, but she was too afraid to tell him. He didn't need any of this—what he wanted wasn't sympathy, it was acceptance. Someone who could accept him for who he was and not trying to mend him into something that he was not. He needed someone who could accept something as simple as him eating the cream off his parfait first before eating the ice cream, instead of asking him to try eating both together at the same time.

"Hey… are you alright…?" The boy called aloud, but met with no response.

Fast-forward a couple of months and the montage of Dante entering the chapel hit him once more. It was the first time he felt an inclination towards someone else. After the first battle, Nero was even more certain that he had found someone as different as he was. That was when he was then informed that the intruder was Dante and he had been dispatched by the Order to locate him. After going through numerous demon encounters and discoveries about the Order in the process, he finally did again, in His Holiness' room. Even though he didn't come out victorious from the second battle, Dante still handed him the sword without any further questions asked after he simply told him he _needed_ it. It was the first time he felt complete trust from another person. A person who needed no questions to give him what he needed. As he unraveled more secrets about the Order, they eventually resorted to using Kyrie as a pawn against him. That of course, didn't stop him from his pursuit for truth. Upon his near victory in the end, the girl's appearance had proven usefully fatal when he was captured inevitably. Just when faith was all lost in him, Dante appeared before him again. The sight of Dante eased the uncertainty in his heart as his confidence rebounded altogether.

And he didn't need words from the old man to be sure that he would come after him.

After Dante freed him from his captivity, he could feel the old man right by his side as he faced Sanctus. His faith stronger than ever, his mind clearer than it had ever been. He had finally found someone he could trust, someone who was just like him. It was a feeling—a feeling so strong that even if he was bad with it, he could not deny it existed. The hole in his heart had been sated by Dante's existence, even after all the time he had spent with Kyrie was incomparable to it.

_Hey Dante! Will we meet again?_

However, what Nero had never expected was meeting the elder hunter so soon again. The second time they met ended up with him wrapped in Dante's arms, shivering in fear as his body let up to him. As much as he had been brutalized, he knew deep down that he wanted a part of this. He didn't want to let go of the warmth that embraced him. He didn't want to become a forgotten memory. He wanted to brand a part of him into the elder's soul. He braced the pain and humiliation, a part of him regretful yet another elated in pure bliss.

Until, he heard it.

_Vergil._

His voice never reached Dante. He was seeking solace through his body. It was brutal love. A form of love too strong that it hurt so bad losing it. Nero could see it in his eyes as he cried embracing him—a broken soul who yearned to rekindle that love once more. For whatever reason it might be, Dante was abandoned and the inverse rebounded equally hard. Although Nero didn't understand how he managed to trigger the fire in him, he only knew how to return the heat by holding onto him when he lost conscious of his actions. Of course he was afraid, so much so that he allowed the fear to seep into him. He was worried what would become of him if he couldn't help Dante out of his phase. Would he have been the biggest fool trading his body for his sanity? Nero felt as though he was making a deal with the _devil_, bitter as the sheer irony in full honesty. It was the only thing he could do then; he could do nothing else if he wanted to pick up the pieces that were crumbling inside him. It was his gamble.

But the devil never played fair.

After listening to what Trish had told him, he accepted the fact that he was just a substitute for Vergil. He gritted the anger brewing inside. He was no fool. It wasn't because of the fact that he allowed Dante to take him that angered him, but rather the devil inside him didn't give Nero a chance to reach out to him. And Nero was helpless to it. The angst brought pain the young knight never knew existed before. It hurt so much that all the hate turned into sadness and grief. No matter how much he yearned for Dante's acknowledgment, it was not going to happen. He saw the _devil_ in Dante and it only recognized his twin brother. It wasn't about to let anyone else enter Dante's realm other than Vergil. To it, Nero was insignificant.

_What is this?_

He moved his fingers to his cheeks and felt a trail of tears overflowing from his eyes. Was he crying? His heart felt constricted as he struggled to breath. It was painful. The feeling of not being able to breathe was so much more miserable than he thought. The slightest thought of Dante's smile sent tears streaming down quicker than it flowed. He wanted to see that smile again. Nero wanted so much he knew he could never have. He regretted every single word he had said to Dante back in Fortuna. The hatred exploded at the sight of the old man, remembering all the things he had done-or what his devil had done. Words came out quicker than he could process them, and they turned vile with each passing remark. However, none of them was true. None of them was what he had truly wanted to say from the bottom of his heart. He was done with all the hate that he feigned having for Dante. It was tiring to keep it going.

_Whatever you say, kid._

Dante's voice continued to ring in his ears. Nero tried to stop it but they wouldn't stop echoing. It felt like déjà vu—he was captured again, powerless and helpless. But this time, he was certain Dante wouldn't be showing up to save him. In fact, he wasn't even sure if the old man would ever want to show his face before him again. After all, he did cut all the ties clean back in Fortuna.

Did he regret it?

Hell, more than he ever did for stepping foot into this world.

Despite so, Nero still wanted him. He still wanted to fight for the recognition. Not from Dante's devil, but from the old man himself. He couldn't figure how he was going to achieve it but he wasn't about to settle being less than insignificant. He told himself he was done with the lies, done with the hiding and done with being scared. He wanted to come clean with his feelings for once, or whatever he figured he was feeling. So, if he ever made out of this place alive…

He was going to find him.

He was going to make him recognize his existence.

_Don't replace him, overtake him. You may deny all you want, but you know the truth residing inside._

He was going to tell him.

"Scars." A weak voice from the opposite cell shook him from his space. It was the boy.

"I'm sorry?" He finally spoke after the long silence.

"Do you know that scars exist because they're a brand of a memory of something significant that has happened in your life? I have one beneath my eye. My Father lashed it."

Nero wasn't quite sure what the boy was getting at.

"I believe… Dante has many scars."

Then Nero's heart almost stopped. He finally understood what Trish was trying to tell him.

"HEY YOU. Time to go." Another voice entered into the chamber. This time it was the voice of a grown-up. A group of males came to Nero's cell and unlocked the gate. Two of them went in and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, exerting force onto his injuries to control his movements. Prone to the pain, Nero reluctantly walked with them as they pushed him hastily out of the cell before tightly tying his hands to the back.

The boy watched in the shadows as they escorted Nero out of the area. He placed a hand on the scar on his face as he closed his eyes, musing deep in thought.

_Don't be afraid. He will come… Dante will save you._

* * *

After this chapter, you would have guessed that the finale is upon us. This showdown will be a test of everybody's faith and those who believe shall see to the end. All fears and worries must be discarded otherwise they will never succeed.

Only the highest stakes will reap the highest rewards.

**Happy 2012!**


	15. Episode 15: Betting on Gambles

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry.**

* * *

Stale. The sewers reeked with foul stenches of carcasses.

Lucky for Dante, the agile hunter landed on the stony pathway beside the main river consisting of dirty water. Winging the foul smell off with his hand, he scrutinized the dark surroundings, taking good mental note of the highly placed lit candles next to each hole like the one he traveled down from. These holes were individually built with some distance apart, fairly indicating the size of the underground palace could be much bigger than he assumed. Then carefully swinging his coat away from the river, he studied the current carrying the remains of broken bones and disemboweled bodies downwards. The end of the flow was a clean cut to the path, a concluding waterfall possibly.

_Well if you can't go down, then up is the only way._

Out of choices, Dante strolled against the river flow, taking time to nitpick his exits.

* * *

"LET ME GO!"

Nero struggled in the ropes he was bounded by, hissing at the human-looking demons taking him to somewhere untold. They weren't too pleased with his persistence to be annoying and had stopped a couple of times to have him be taught some manners. Although Nero suffered some hits to his gut, he was far from being done. Being tamed was not his forte. He managed to rub some damage on them with his arms restrained, once every often kicking and tripping them when an opportunity opened up. But to his dismay, three was not a number he could cope with in his given circumstances. The cycle eventually came to a point where the demons could no longer tolerate his insolence that they knocked him out cold and dragged his limp body across the floor to their destination.

"What do you think Vladimir is going to do with him?" Said one with a scar running from his eye to his jaw.

"I heard he intends to feed on him." Another dressed in jade responded.

"What! He's the leader of the pack! He can't be serious feeding off that like a woman!" The agitated other displayed his unacceptance.

"What is all this ruckus?"

As the trio approached the end of the stairway they had been climbing, Vladimir stood atop overseeing them, watching them bringing Nero up. Pulling a brown suede jacket over his pale body, he slipped into a loose pair of black pants as he instructed them to place the ex-Order member over a raised platform, something similar to a sacrificial table. Crafted by stone and mortar, muddy stains filled the surface of the furniture and candles lined along its circumference. Gently, the trio placed Nero on the table, careful not to knock any candles over. As soon as they were done, they retreated to their humble standings, hanging their head low to refrain any eye contact with their leader. Staring was a sign of challenge; the kind that only one with a certain death wish would gladly take upon.

"Now that all is done, I have but one question standing." Their leader's icy voice crept into their ears, deadly and foreboding.

"Yes, sire?" Scarface responded bold, yet respectfully.

"I seek the one who was openly ridiculing feeding as a form of woman sport."

This time, no one stood up. Eyes continued searching the floor, breaths forced to inhale slowly for the fear of accusation in fear itself. Their leader paced in circles around them, footsteps silent but heavy, patience quiet but running out. He continued to incite words of terror to his assistants, repeating his desire for only truth would reward all to not be harmed in any way, which in this case was nothing more than a big fat lie. He watched his demons standing solemn and fearless, or rather guiltless of the given crime. Vladimir knew their best bet was to wait it out, wait his curiosity out to safety. However, he wasn't feeling too benevolent today. Impudence will not be tolerated under his command. If they preferred the waiting game then so be it for he wielded control kindred to a king over his pawns and above all, a sign was all he sought after—a moment of trepidation, a moment of weakness.

Then suddenly, he charged towards one of the three, gripping the chosen victim's neck tightly as he lifted him off the ground. Scarface and Jade listened as their fellow demon struggled wildly in their leader's hold. They secretly swallowed a lump down their throats, feeling both relieved and terrified at the same time. However, that barely instilled them any courage to look up from where they were either. Any portray to challenge the leader was never their intention. Vladimir stared at the petrified face pleading at him, reaching out to wipe a single drop of sweat off his face to show it to the chosen one.

"Is it hot in here?" He questioned.

"N-no s-sire…!" The latter choked in between words for the grip continued to constrict around his neck.

"Isn't it a little odd to be perspiring if you aren't feeling hot then?"

"I-I was j-just… "

"Panicking?" Vladimir continued the latter's sentence on behalf, staring at similar golden orbs to his with fear marking as the only difference setting them apart.

"P-please—"

The begging stopped instantly before the sentence filled itself. Curiosity overtook Jade as he looked up, where he met the motionless body on the floor. The ground dented beneath his head and rivers of blood oozed along the cracks. Jade had no need to feel guilty over it; it was the latter's own goddamn fault if he wanted to badmouth someone such as the leader of the pack. He could have kept his mouth shut if he knew nothing good was coming out of it. He was a complete moron. He had it coming. He had no one to blame but his own goddamn self. Assuming that should have been the case, if only the one lying dead on the floor was not his childhood friend, or his closest friend in the pack.

"Take it away. It shan't interfere with my ritual."

Scarface first got up to clear the scene. He walked past Jade, placing a hand instinctively on his shoulder to briefly grip it before heading over to the carcass. The latter quickly collected his composure and followed behind to help, reminded by the inevitable fact that he was still in the presence of their merciless leader. Slowly picking up the lifeless body, Jade looked back at their leader who stood beside the sacrifice. A wail of disgust filled him. Then quietly, he departed under Scarface's lead, watching his friend resting lifeless in his hands, but ever not in peace.

* * *

Now Dante stood before a long corridor and guess what, more options to choose from again. Plenty of entrances leading into isles into other exits. A hallway filled with alternatives, chances outweighing possibilities. What's worse? Dante never had lady luck on his side ever.

"Now this is what I call choices!" The hunter paced along the corridor, taking his time to pick a favorite door. But considering the poor luck he always had in hand, he didn't quite have the luxury this round either as two humans came his way, carrying something else in their hands.

"Well what do we have here? Is that for me?" The hunter walked briskly ahead, hand reaching for Rebellion as he picked up speed. Scarface was the first to drop the carcass as he evolved into his demon form, deflecting Dante's swing with his arms. Hissing at the collision, he leaped back to Jade's side, knocking the legs of the dead body onto the floor from Jade's hand while nudging the fellow demon.

"No time to waste, get him!" Scarface growled as he charged back towards Dante, talons deadlocked for the hunter's torso. Jade slowly diffused into the cerulean skin and took pursuit, every ounce of underlying anger threatening to overflow. Dante hoisted Rebellion, resting the blade over his shoulders as he watched the two demons charged towards him. He stood poised, observing the movements of the demons while recanting the initial encounter. A missing aura, the boys lacked an aura which drew them apart from the woman he encountered. Still, that was no reason to spare them. The hunter stomped his feet into the ground, cracking the walkway as he propelled into the air, throwing Rebellion towards the lynxes. The heavy weapon shot out like a boomerang, slicing through the air and revolved around the duo. Scarface ground one claw against the spinning weapon, using the opposing force to retreat from further damages at the expense of his fingers. Jade dived back onto the ground, landing next to his injured comrade as he speculated his wounds. He hissed at the hunter who caught his returning claymore, putting it safely away on his back. The hunter shook his head in the distance, clicking his tongue as the sound reverberated within the walls. Scarface, refusing to be defeated, leaped towards the hunter once more, leaving Jade no choice but to assist him from behind, following the chase. Quickly drawing his guns, Dante gunned down the perpetrator in rapid shots and bruised the follower in his limbs. Imminent to devour the bullets firsthand, Scarface disintegrated almost instantaneously whereas Jade collapsed to the floor, squirming away in pain and agony. He watched yet another fellow demon died before his eyes, cursing under his breath for the ability to suffer the sorrow.

"Don't make this too easy for me." Dante jested, slowly trotting over to the wounded demon. He knelt beside the injured, face of indifference hanging.

"Y-you'll die." Jade squeezed every ounce of strength insulting the hunter, feeling the same amount of life closing upon him.

"Hmm, but not today."

"No one can s-stop… him…" The weakened demon looked around the corridor one last time before his eyes closed, body dried up and carried away by the wind.

As he tucked his guns away, Dante sensed the irregularity of the wind. The scattered remains of the wounded demon flew into one of the passageways before it vanished. Peeking into the small sidewalk, he noticed a very dim light emitting from a corner turn it led to. The hunter paced towards the glow, surprised to find a long stairway running deep into the ground. He took his time down the stairs, the light shining brighter greeting his way. At the end of the path, he could barely see the platform he came from anymore. It looked like some prison of some sort, stashed far away from daylight, hidden far from sight. More candles shone the path once more as he came upon a tiny gate, likely capable of only fitting one person each time through its door perhaps. Dante rammed his foot into the rusty gate, where it easily gave way with its age. A loud thud sounded the hollow space, making the hunter looking pleased with his work.

_Still can't sense the kid…_

Bending slightly to accommodate to the height of the door, the elder moved down another short flight of steps, not surprised to find a row of chamber cells. Candles burned weakly in this narrow space, the smell of stale air and insufficient oxygen vying to survive. Dante skimmed through the lock ups, most of them empty and barren, signs of mold and decay. Just as he was convinced there was nothing beneficial from this visit, something pulsated and rushed blood into his head. He headed over to one of the cells with brisk steps, starring at a heap of dirty white bandages left over in it. He could taste a faint scent lingering in the air, which his demon side affirmed to the annotation he thought of. He did not understand why he could not sense this earlier, or why is it that he could only feel it from such short distance. It was the exact same scenario when he could not find Nero while knowing he was in danger. Something blocked him off. Something more powerful than his demon kinetics had used some kind of ability to stall his search. Maybe a device, a tool or whatever. Nonetheless, it was pretty much a pain in his ass knowing his enemy was capable of something like that, but in return, at least one thing was sure for now: Nero's still alive.

"D-Dante…?" A weak voice called from behind. Dante turned around and looked into the opposite cell, glowing orbs shinning in the darkness.

"Well what do you know? It's your lucky day pal."

In the blink of an eye, the elder ran Rebellion through the aged bars as they split in half, the bottom half dropping from its original suspension. Again, he displayed the same satisfaction all over his smirking face, seemingly a newfound passion discovered for the love of destruction. Securing the claymore on his back, Dante suddenly found himself thrown into a strong embrace around his legs as he looked down to find a messy patch of brown hair sticking to his thighs, tiny arms running to the back of them. He tried to wriggle out of it but the child was relentless.

"You're a little too young for my taste, little girl."

"I can't believe you came! You really came!" The young voice cried in delight, grabbing his legs even tighter.

"Take it easy now. You have to make a fair trade since I saved you." Dante bent down and pushed the child out of the intimacy, then knelt down to take a closer look at the child. She, or maybe he now, had a boyish face that looked underfed, brunette with bright shiny irises dressed in ill clothing hiding the small frame beneath. Also, the smell he wore was so familiar, from so very recent. The boy watched Dante observing him, similarly to him observing the hunter back in the known forms he had been told before.

"You're… you're Dante right? Son of Sparda…?"

Dante rolled his eyes at the second addressee, "Dante's fine. Didn't know my fame spread this far underground."

The child gulped a deep breath down, trying to contain his excitement. The real thing is right before his eyes. His eyes brimmed with hope and elation, louder than the first time he had shown Nero. White hair, blue eyes, flawless complexion—marks of the son of Sparda. Clad in red and carrying a sword the height of a man; the hero he had been waiting for was finally here. All the nights of praying, hoping and wishing had come true. The boy had been repetitively squealing inside, tears of joy filling his eye sockets.

"Aunt Amelié was right! You're just as how she described you as! She said you always fight for—"

"Hey, look. I don't have time for your stories so why don't you just tell me where's the person in the opposite cell so you and I both can be on our separate ways?"

Interrupted, the boy looked across the cell where Nero was held captive before and an immediate rush of anxiety crept into him. He ran towards the cell and grabbed the poles tightly, recalling the silver-haired inmate taken away hostilely. Although he had never heard tales of demons being eaten like humans were, he could not be too sure if there won't be a first time to everything. And for some untold reasons, he did not want to tell Dante about their bizarre eating habits. He was afraid to break the trust he had been trying to forge with his hero, not knowing if the hunter felt the same way towards him.

"They took him… the man who had the same hair as you. I… I don't know what they are going to do to him."

Dante got up to pace over to the child's side, together with him staring into the empty cell. The scent of the kid still lingered, causing his demon side to flare up every once reminded of. Despite being unsure of what his demon side was so upset about, the elder clearly told him to shut the hell up. He was the reason why they were here.

That one loss of control was the reason why he was here to clean up the mess.

"That's why I'm here."

"I know." The boy responded without hesitation. Dante could only blankly stare at the boy's quick reply.

"I know you came to save him," the boy continued, "He was so alone and afraid, so very lost."

"Who is?"

"Him." The boy pointed his chin towards the cell, "The one who has the same hair as you. He looks frightened, but not by the ones who took him…"

Dante stopped to take a moment; he knew exactly what the child was referring to.

"You must save him." Determination seized the child's eyes this time. "Let me help you."

The elder watched the boy's focused eyes staring straight at him. He knew what the boy was, which meant there was a limit to how far he could stretch his chances. His demon continuously reminded him to eliminate the boy but he completely ignored it. Their primary concern was locating Nero so Dante would have to do whatever it takes to find him. The key to that was he needed a map of the dungeon, a highway route to his destination. Sure, he could spend time testing his luck, but he doubted Nero had the equivalence. Now that the boy had informed him that Nero was taken away, it clearly became a race against time. No more detours, no more mistakes. And since Lady raised no other information regarding this underground fortress, he was rather clueless other than knowing he had to move up. Needless to say, the inability to detect Nero was most unpleasant and inconvenient at a time like this as well. Therefore this boy could serve well as a guide, and there should be no harm putting a little trust in a held captive. Reality concluded that was his best bet as a failed gambler.

But as it stands, the only sound judgment to make was one that included Dante sparing any thought for its details at all. Always the man without a plan, his decision was as simple as a feel in his gut. He trusted his gambles way too much, delusional to the point to assume they were always the best of all kinds in fact.

"Fair enough. Lead the way."

* * *

Reviews are encouraging. A big thank you to those who have not abandoned this fiction.


	16. Episode 16: Peacekeeper

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry.**

* * *

Heaven. Or maybe the stairway to Hell.

"How do you even know all these secret walkways?" Dante huffed trailing behind the boy. They had apparently been squeezing through narrow walkways hidden in between walls, thus successfully refrained from being visibly seen patrolling in the main hallways. Since the hunter was almost twice the size of the halfling, he clearly was not enjoying moving through these cramped spaces. The boy continued leading them through the dark corridors, his eyes so ever locked into space as though deep in thought.

"Aunt Amelié showed me the map of the dungeon pretty often."

"Why would she do something like that?"

"She said if she took the main gate out, there'd be too much to answer to. You see, she's not supposed to be out all the time so… she found a way to sneak out—or, some ways to sneak out." Pausing to make a right turn, he peered from the corner to make sure no one was around before he proceeded, "She often showed me the different routes she took to exit the palace. So I've seen the map quite a number of times…"

"And you remembered it?" Dante, hereby questioning, on the account of being either impressed or flabbergasted.

"Can't say I don't have a good memory. It's like I'm born with it!" The boy answered, turning around to flash a rather self-satisfying grin.

"Save the smirk until we're outta here, kiddo." With that, the hunter placed his palm on the boy's head, giving it a good ruffle to put him back in his place.

The boy looked most certainly pleased with his gesture as he closed his eyes intently with a broad smile across his face. He enjoyed the presence of the hunter. Albeit with not many actions, Dante had given him company more than he could ask of, in the illustration of a fatherly figure which he had always dreamt his own father to be. He secretly harbored hopes for his father to be as outstanding and accomplished as the hunter did. Thoughts like that usually ended up him wondering how his father would look like, how his personality would be like, if he resembled his father so on and forth. Unfortunately, this dream would always remain a dream until the day he could meet his father. His aunt recaptured all the impressions he had of his father since it was impossible in his given youth he would have remembered any bit of it, even if he had a good memory. However it did pique his curiosity to recall nothing from the past, as though the first of his memories were right within the cell. Things such as how his mother or father looked like were a complete mystery. Given how confident he was of his ability to remember things and boy was he so damn proud of it when he knew he had memorized the entire layout of the dungeon on the back of his hand just from a couple of maps, it was intriguing not to remember the slightest bit of his parents' features. Perhaps his ability was unusable as an infant; or maybe this ability only developed when he grew slightly older. The suspicions were endless. While he continued in the midst of his ponders, a slight sadness crept onto his face as he subconsciously felt the heat from the hunter's hand leaving him.

"Say, what's your name?" Coming to terms with it, Dante realized he barely knew the kid's name. Well, make that never.

"Nathanael."

"That's quite a mouthful to say," And having decided that, the hunter mused for a moment before he continued, "I'll give you a new pet name, kiddo. Nate."

"Nate?" The boy blinked twice at the hunter.

"Yeah, I'm liking the sound of it already."

The pet name was not part of any deal the boy had expected. First, he never thought he would meet the hunter in person ever. Next, even if he did, never did he dream the hunter would attempt to rescue him. Now, the hunter's slightest interest in his name enthralled him, and giving him an exclusive nickname was definitely a plus to top the charts. Nate giggled to himself, overly pleased with his new nickname given by the hunter. How he liked the hunter so very much, he would want to stick with him as much as he could.

"What are you giggling to yourself over there?" Dante puzzled, eyes looking around the old palace, wondering how long had it been since the demons had infiltrated the premises.

"Nothing!" Hyped, Nate quieted his chuckles as he approached the exit in the distance. "Beyond this wall, we should be at the main hall. There will be many people there."

The hunter picked up his speed as he walked beside Nate, dim candlelight from the chandelier spreading into the secret passageway. Hiding a few inches away from the window, he leaned forward and peered down, counting about a dozen of the humans, or demons in disguise, gathering in the center of the hall. They whispered amongst themselves, barely audible from the duo's location. There was a cackle of excitement spreading within, and Dante guessed the news must have revolved around Nero.

_Always the attention seeker eh, kid?_

"Where should we be going next?" Dante asked audibly, careful of the echoes within the tight space they stood in.

Nate pointed across the hall, beyond the chandelier, another similar entrance into a passageway to the one they sat in. "There. In that passageway, there's a long ladder that will take us up to the secluded upper levels."

"So now, we've gotta figure out how to get across the room unnoticed."

Nate nodded, waiting for a plan or some sort.

"There's one thing about me that you should really know, Nate." The hunter grinned in return, setting the curiosity alarm off in the boy's head. "I've never really been the quiet type of person."

Concluding that, Dante pulled Ivory out from his left pocket and took a clean shot at the chandelier. The gunshot set all the demons on alert as they glared all directions, searching for the source of the sound. One in the herd looked up in time to notice the joint between the chain suspending the chandelier and the latter broke, sending the heavy ornament crashing down from the ceiling. He howled and signaled to all his fellow people to dodge the incoming and all took their corners around the hall, watching the candles falling apart from the chandelier, raising a fire from all the scattered wax. Another alerted the fire outbreak and took off to find water to put out the fire. Others followed suit, unraveling their demon forms for better agility and speed.

"Come on!" Dante yelled, "Get on my back now!" Not hesitating, Nate hopped onto the hunter's back, arms grabbing his shoulders tightly with a faint idea of his crazy plan.

Just as he thought, the next scene flashing before Nate's eyes happened to be sight of the hall delving into his vision, leaving the passageway they previously stood before behind. He felt the wind rushing through his hair; strands of white hair fluttering across his face, leather crumpled in his tight grip and the hilt of the familiar sword pinning between him and the warmth of the hunter's back. The exhilaration found its way to his face once more as his lips stretched into a wide grin, then parting to show sharp fangs hiding within to conform into a snarling smile. Dante leaped from the corridor, diving through the air as he eyed for the trailing chain previously suspending the chandelier. His right hand grabbed the loose end of it, the force from his propel swinging him back and forth once he caught hold of it. He looked down at the sea of fire, smirking at his masterpiece before throwing his weight in the momentum of the chain to shoot his body towards the opposite corridor. Nate watched, partially frightened though mostly excited, the hunter slingshot them towards the passageway he mentioned. As he felt them closing into the opening, the speed began to deteriorate and in turn causing their plunge to head downwards. Feeling the gravity pulling them towards the ground, Nate shut his eyes tightly, clenching his fist even tighter than previous on the hunter's red coat.

"Don't close your eyes!"

The playful voice woke the boy from his fears as he did as he was told, noticing red energy gathering around him and Dante. This energy quickly spiraled around them, moving downwards to the hunter's legs to form an emblem sealed on the base of his feet. Suddenly, before Nate could register, an unknown force pushed them forward, giving the extra boost as they drove into the narrow corridor. Nate detached his body from the hunter's back as they rolled across the ground. Dante managed to stop on his knee and foot balancing on the floor, which he posed to readily catch the incoming boy in his arms in time. Nate stirred in his arms, looking slightly distraught from the flow of events.

"Fun?" The hunter set the boy on his foot as he stood up, stretching his back.

Nate nodded vigorously, the smile never leaving his face.

"Too bad they missed it." Dante pointed a thumb towards the entrance they came from, the light generated from the fire slowly tuned down from the walls. In spite no one being hurt, Nate did not feel particularly sad for the others in the herd either. It wasn't because he felt a sense of grudge or hate towards them, but rather he wasn't close to anyone other than his Aunt Amelié. Second to that would be Dante evidently. He felt no immense emotions for strangers, even if they were the same.

"Where to now?"

Nate pointed to the far end of the corridor, "The ladder's there. We should hurry in case they start searching the premises."

* * *

Nero woke up with a terrible ache in his head. There was a weird scent in the air lingering. His eyelids felt heavy and tired, and he could not put his concentration to work. Therefore, he tried to move his hands and in return, he heard the mild clinks of metal clashing against each other to his dismay. Turning to his left, he saw his arm fastened to the corner of whatever he was tied to. The right happened to be dealt in similar fashion. Instinctively wriggling his ankle, he felt weights on them which proven unwilling to budge. To further enhance his entrapment, the heat from the candles surrounding him continued emitting the vaporized drug. That pretty much summarized that his current situation was just as it was before and against his favor, now it included him being strapped onto a whatever-it-was-below. If he thought that was the end of it, there was more to come.

The surface he lied on was neither comfortable nor warm, causing a constant need to shift his position. It hurt lying flat in his position, but he did not have much of a choice either. Forcing his head to levitate, he craned his neck forward to find himself cloaked in a semi-transparent black robe, golden embroidery lining the hem of the clothing. He could almost partially see his fair tone beneath the thin material, other than his own leg protruding from the cross-section of the robe brought together. It appeared to be a costume of some sort and Nero made a bet at it being a ritual uniform internally. Given that, his concern naturally arose to looking absolutely ridiculous in it. Weren't rituals supposed to be done mostly, not definitively, on females? Didn't it usually revolved around some kind of maiden in cases like this? Nero certainly did not feel like one, and he was ready to take it out on whoever thought he was maiden-quality.

The scent continued to haze the room and as every second he continued inhaling it, he felt the drowsiness increasing in accordance. He felt weak all over, difficult to breathe the sandalwood alike essence. Using the remains of his strength, Nero quickly looked around the room to source for an exit but to no avail. His chances grew slimmer when he felt drug running through his system.

"I wasn't expecting you to be awake under such a heavy dose."

Oh how Nero wished he didn't ever have to hear the voice of that again. "What… what have you done to m-me?"

"It's just a dosage of passiflora. It induces drowsiness. I can't be having you running all over my place, can I?"

The ex-knight hissed and coughed, he felt his body churning in pain and swelling with ache. "On-only that?"

"Well, whatever else my subordinates could have done is not within my jurisdiction. Like I said, you have to keep that mouth of yours, tamed."

"Not my problem they were p-pissing me off…" Nero rebuked, fighting hard to keep his conscious awake.

"Indeed they would have to be taught a lesson if they were misbehaving, but I believe that decision lies in my hands. Now stop resisting the drug, this will all be over soon." As soon as the sentence concluded, Vladimir stood from his seat, walking out of Nero's sight.

"What will be…?"

The leader stopped in his steps, but said nothing in return. Then briefly, he departed the room as soon as he heard the erratic breathing returned normal.

* * *

"How much further?"

"Shhh… someone's coming!" Nate hushed the hunter as he pulled him behind one of the shadowed pillars. The upper level's hallway was as devoid as the holding cells below. Two of the evolved demons hastily paced through the corridor, each holding a silver tray in their hands. They quickly disappeared into the dark alley before the duo reappeared from the shadows.

"Something big's going on." Nate said aloud, studying the image of the demon he locked in his head.

"You don't say…"

"My… my dad's chamber should be another level up… from here…"

Dante sensed the weary tone escaping from Nate and turned to look at the boy whose eyes glued to the ground, threading fingers between both hands nervously. He walked towards him, putting a hand on his shoulders and held him firmly.

"It's alright. You can go now."

"What…?" Nate looked back in surprise.

"You've done enough for me, kiddo. You should go before your dad sees you."

"But I want to help!" Tears almost filling the boy's eyes as he anxiously grabbed the hunter's coat. "I want to help you find him back!"

"You're worried. I don't know over what but can't help you even if I want to." Dante found himself kneeling quite often around the boy.

"I just—I just don't know how my father looks like…"

And it all made sense. Nate was worried he would never know how his father looked like. He was the leader of the clan no doubt, but there was no telling if he could ever make it far enough to see his father just once. Even with Dante on his side, he did not expect the hunter to be paying attention to his welfare. The last thing he would ever want was to be a nuisance, a burden to the hunter. Besides, the only reason the hunter came was to seek his partner. Everything else was secondary compared to that. The hunter had granted far beyond his little wishes, he had them accomplished such that death would abstain from regret. But even so, he still wished he could see his father just once… All he needed was one look and it would be sealed in his memory forever, alive or not.

"Hmm… then I'll just have to make sure you do." Dante's kind gesture resulted the boy gasping in short pants of thank-yous and appreciation that even he flinched at the exaggeration. His eyes rained so badly the hunter was feeling uneasy, "Oh come on kiddo, gotta stop crying now, al'right?"

Carelessly rubbing his eyes, Nate refreshed the smile on his face as he nodded in contend. As long as he was with Dante, he knew things were going to be all right.

* * *

The door swayed gently, warm light casting a shadow from the entrance into the room. The room was cold, still and lifeless, but tidied clean and pristine. The raven-haired leader paced into the chamber, walking past and touching the corners of every piece of furniture placed in it. His lips winced tightly, bottom lip folded inwardly with bit marks forming. He passed by a dressing table, picking up a photo frame resting on it. Sadness found its way to his eyes where hurt resurfaced from being forgotten. So he placed the picture down, moving away from the painful memories it brought out. Pulling a chair out from the table arranged in the middle of the room, he took a seat and scrutinized the familiar surroundings once more.

The bed frame he spent days carving for her, the wardrobe they spent hours searching in town, the withered flowers they last gathered together brought back the bittersweetness of their relationship. It was all gone now. If only he was there…

…Maybe he could have saved her.

Maybe, she would not have died.

Maybe, things would not escalate to this stage.

_And maybe, everything could start all over again._

But what's the point dwelling in all these what-ifs now? She chose her path. A path to abandon him, abandon everyone else, and especially the poor boy waiting in the dungeon. She was the center of her own universe. If she had concerns for anything, it would have only been for herself. No one else mattered. He had given her so much more, more than what she could have asked for; still, she was not satisfied. He willingly committed his life to her even though it was as good as putting hopes in a one-sided affair. Foolish, but it did not stop him. He would bear all the sins and guilt to shield her. Naïve, but that did not stop him either. In order to keep her safe, he would destroy anything that would threaten their happiness. If the truth could cut her, he would hide it from her. As long as it was all for her own good… so long it would keep her happy. Even if he had to implicate a lie into his life for all eternity, he would do it in a blink of an eye for her. And even if this lie escalated to the point of no return, he would still find it was all worth it for her.

Still, it did not change anything.

All the lying changed nothing.

The laws of nature, the inevitable cannot be avoided.

What needs to happen will eventually happen.

_No one can run from his destiny._

Vladimir rested his forehead on his palms, vexed and perplexed. The pain never subsided. These few nights had been the most unbearable in his entire life and tonight was no exception. So he willed his agony from submission as usual, tears forced to recant on their own as he swallowed the sorrow. He must have his mind only focused on his plans now; there is no room for distractions of any sort. There was no turning back.

"Sire." A servant stood by the door called in.

"Are the preparations completed?" Vladimir questioned commandingly, putting the chair back in place as he stepped towards the light.

"Yes, they are. We have been waiting." The servant humbly stepped aback noticing the leader exiting the room.

"Raise the decks. There is a full moon tonight."

Routines preceding his orders, the servant hastily made his exit down the hallway as soon as he nodded in response. Vladimir quietly closed the door, locking the chamber up once more as he headed for the opposite direction. He let out a deep sigh as he departed the wing, clenching the key tightly in his hand.

Soon it will all be over.

And he will find peace again.


	17. Episode 17: The Cavalry

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry.**

* * *

_"The Devil's most devilish when respectable."  
— Elizabeth Barrett Browning_

Stark. The night so dark that candles blazed brightly all around.

When Nero woke up from the conducive slumber again, he noticed a suspended glow from the ceiling far above him. He tried to focus on the detail to shake the heavy blur off after which he noticed he was right where he last remembered, captured. The air was warm and the light was low, silence continued to dominate in his presence. He desperately tugged at the metal shackle, conjuring strength to break its chain with his bringer but to no avail. The drug continued to surge through his system; he could feel bits of numbness gathering in areas where he exerted force. His talons now felt like they weighed a ton or something, driving every last bit of his resolution out the window. The ex-knight sighed as he took a moment to recollect his thoughts, thinking about his chances to come out alive of this situation.

But who was he kidding? He knew he had no chance of escaping so long his system doesn't kickstart going. There was no way he could get out of these chains in his drugged state, more so to fight his way out. Where was Red Queen? How was he going to fight without anything? Rather than that, why fight when he has nothing to fight for?

Why not slumber…and let everything happen as it should?

A foolish moment of weakness.

Nero could barely hold his resolve any longer. He sought relief, away from the life he had been going through, the mistakes he had made, the regrets made to suffer with him for life. It was never in his nature to accept being feeble and weak. He would never hand his fate over to anyone. Fate had predestined his path to be a line of endless battling: a tough boy born to fight for the right causes, holding his beliefs in times of dubiety and chaos to steer good in the direction where his faith would bring him. That was what gave him courage to stand against the Order, to face the fiend who had misguided all those who placed faith in him and defeat him, freeing all from the delusion weaved. One hand clasped around the grip of Red Queen and the other over the grip of Blue Rose, he brought down the demons one after another, sworn to avenge Credo for the sacrifice he made and save Kyrie from the hands of Sanctus. He watched the footage where he delivered the last blow into the preacher once more, the moment that sealed away the injustice everybody in Fortuna suffered under his lead. The good men who had fallen, the innocent civilians who had sacrificed, the city that was salvaged, all accomplished in that split eye's moment due completed.

However, what he accomplished was not without help.

An initial eyesore. That pain in the ass. The grown man bantering every second along his way. Every little clue he left and directed. A help he gave beyond anything he could ask for. Led him to a truth that could have never been discovered if it weren't for him. His conviction to save him. The yearning to meet again. Then, the crushing faith to believe in him.

A reunion that torn them apart.

A joining that awoke the unspoken past.

A consummation that spoke the truth.

Nero wanted out. He tried to fight against the drawling attraction he had for the devil. '_The devil's most devilish when respectable'_ they said, how oddly true might that have been? The more he tried to resist it, the more compelling that desire became. He could not speak of it to Kyrie, what would the maiden think of him if she found out he copulated with another male? The religious background did far from helping, it made the ex-knight terrified to even recall it. However, being terrified alone wasn't enough to stop him from questioning the gray area. He spent every night thinking about the incident, particularly avoiding the trauma hitting an emotional spot should he brush across it and focused on something else, something that meant more to him.

Those tears. Those god-awful-damn tears.

_Answers, old man. I want your goddamn answers._

Resilience makes a man stronger than he was before. It makes a man hide away all the pain he has been through. But this man is not unbreakable. This man has a tale to tell, a history filled with remorse, regrets, pain, sorrow, scars and perhaps even the bodies too he had walked over. It makes this man tougher, but weaker at the very same time.

Nero has seen it. He isn't just certain about it, he's absolutely sure about it.

Dante is stuck.

Real time may have kept going but he sure as hell didn't.

He called Vergil. He yearned for a man who was gone for more than just a few years.

The other son of Sparda.

This must be fixed.

_Mortal._

Nero shuddered at the voice. Who said that?

_Mortal, I am speaking to you._

"W-what?" Nero spoke softly in the silent room, his voice barely reaching his ears.

_You speak of the other son of Sparda. What do you know of him?_

The ex-knight was still mildly in shock by the sudden turn of events but it beats being alone in the silence. He needed that distraction anyways, before he continued dwelling on pointless issues. The source sounded certain of the old man, the roots and history of the so-called son of Sparda. Its confidence was unquestionable, as though they had a score way back in the early books. In spite the voice appeared to have not originated from any part of the room, it was crisp and clear the way he heard it. In fact, Nero was not even sure if he heard it, all he knew was the voice resonated in his mind and it felt nothing like the voice of a person.

"You mean Dante?"

_If that is your preference, then feel free to address by his human name. _

"W-who are you?" Nero couldn't suppress a stutter; the voice was icy cold, it sent shivers up his spine.

_I am the son of Sparda._

"Wait, I thought that was Dante."

_He is but the other half of my existence. We are two pieces of a complete union._

"I don't get what you mean."

_The power of Sparda was divided in two through his descendants. One half resides in Dante, as you may address, while the other is mine to possess._

"You mean you're—"

_It matters not what I am being called. The humanly name that was once known no longer exists. I am all that remains of him._

The ex-knight breathed hard. The new information was too raw to grasp. If it was as it presented, he could very well be speaking to the other half of the old man. How was it possible that he could actually converse with a man from the past? Well, to address him as a man felt nonetheless inappropriate in this circumstance too. Is he actually still alive? If he is, where is he? If he isn't, then how did this communication establish? What happened between him and the old man back then? The hurt, how did the hurt happen? Questions immediately flooded the young lad's mind, what better time to find out what actually happened than this? This could very well be Nero's chance to try straighten things right for the old man. Maybe if he could get the answers, he could convince the elder to move on from his guilt, stop him from tormenting himself by living in the past that no longer existed.

This isn't for him. This is for the man who trusted him.

_I know you have questions for me, especially those pertaining to Dante, however I must remind you that time is short. I would prefer you think about escapement prior to anything else._

"How did you—"

_Do you still not understand why you are capable of communicating with me?_

Nero mused for a moment, no answers formulated. However in response to that, he did notice he had stayed conscious much longer than he did previously. He felt less tired in comparison and his mind more alert of its surrounding, senses of hope pooling by the minute he was able to gain more awareness. He tried to wriggle his fingers and to his surprise, they responded though weak. The recovery process was slow but progressing. Nero was certain the drug still ventilated in the room, but somehow it stopped failing his system as it should. Something seems to be preventing it from infiltrating. He could also feel his respiratory stabilizing at his regular rate of breathing, albeit exerting force was apparently discouraged.

"The drug…" The ex-knight whispered, hoping to get some answers to this at least.

_If you must. I have prevented the sedative from entering your system._

"But how could you…"

_Can you be any dafter than this? I reiterate, I have blocked the effects of the sedative from affecting you. There is no use for you if you are not in your ready condition._

Nero panicked. This could be worse than he had imagined. "You mean you're…"

_Your assumption is legitimate. Now, can we get back to business?_

* * *

Dozens of humans arrived at the ceremonial hall. A poised group of them stepped forward to the front of a stairway leading up to a platform. They consisted of males and females, each dressed in a certain black robe where its hood covered over their heads and sash dragged across the floor. The rest of the members patiently waited behind the assembly the special group created, each standing in a fixed position that lined them diagonally in place. They too dressed in vintage culture fashion, gowns and cuffed shirts in plain assortments. Once settled, they stood still as all eyes looked up to the platform, a silhouette forming under the glow of dim candlelight.

"I welcome you my Council members, brothers and sisters."

Vladimir emerged from the darkness and stopped at the edge of the stage, watching his people gathered before him intently. He pulled over a similar black robe that of the frontline members, with the exception of the hood missing from the fabric. Apart from that, the other distinct difference would be the silver necklace attached to a moon-shaped pendant made of teeth worn over the leader. It was a symbol of their forefather, the alpha of the pack, a heirloom perhaps. A hereditary transcendence of power.

"Today we have gathered in the names of our father, our father's father, our forefathers. We stand before a crisis, much to the one we have encountered years back in our ancestral grounds where we were forced to leave our homes, burrowing deep underground where we exist now. In face to this, we must unite to purge all that threatens our existence, fight to protect our place in the book of history for our descendants to come.

This man has murdered our kind despite his heritage as one belonging to the books of the Demon realm. Although we do not fight against our own race, in times such as this we face, we can no longer stand on the side paths and watch them as they trample over our prides and nobility. We will not forget those who had been murdered in cold blood in their attempts to protect our colony from this enemy. We will not tolerate his insolence before us. His misdeeds shall not be erased, the dead shall be avenged. Their deaths will not be in vain."

Every standing identity listened to their leader as he continued from where he left off, absorbing his words as the only truth within the colony. For generations, absolute power was passed onto the new leaders of each beginning era. These leaders dictated the colony. If an order was issued to eradicate an enemy threatening their existences, it would be done. Questions were irrelevant. Should subjects question their leader's actions aloud, various punishments were imminent. As for those who listened, they were the loyalists dominating a large portion of the population. And since most of them would not second doubt at being a loyalist, they hence swore upon the oath of the colony without as much as a hesitation. The pledge was made to deter the acts of treason, where traitors faced a fate worse than death itself. You could call them mindless identities, but other than being required in times of war, they led perfectly normal lives. Much akin to soldiers of an army, they were generally trained in combat where they were taught to risk their lives in situations called for.

However not all were successfully converted, it could be said that a small percentage of them still retained a portion of their standing rationality to decide what was best for them. They were the outcasts, and they were rarely mentioned in any scenarios. The leader tends to ignore their presences, he has no use for people who would not hail to his command. Killing them would not benefit him either, the colony needed every number they have.

"However, I do not wish to further sacrifice any members from the colony. It is not my motive to send more to their deaths since we cannot afford to play a number game here given the amount of losses we have taken. An alternative plan is required to send our enemy a message to ensure that whatever he does is futile against us, and he will pay for the wrong he had erred. Only then will he realize that he has trifled with the wrong clan, and it will be too late to make amendments."

A pause. The soft chattering within the crowd died as he stopped.

"I have taken his mate. Tonight, he shall be sacrificed on the Altar of our Forefather. He shall be feasted by all. We shall feed, ravage, and consume all of him, then burn the agony of his pain right into the soul of the one who threatens to destroy us."

* * *

"Uh…that doesn't sound good."

_Finally, some sense out of a mortal. I can begin to understand why it is said that Dante behaves closely to a mortal._

"I don't feel too good… I still feel weak in my limbs." Nero groaned as he tried to stretch an appendage.

_Patience is our game. While the drug wears off from your system, a plan must be devised. We will only strike at the right moment._

* * *

A loud cheer was heard within the walls of the narrow corridor not far from the hall.

"Sounds like a party to me." Dante snickered as they moved closer towards the sound. Nate followed closely behind, fighting an internal battle between keeping his actions to himself and doing what he wanted to: grab the tail of the hunter's coat like a child's fantasy. The prior won by a fraction of a mile since staking the hunter's liking towards him was as though fooling around in a triple-fold bet. If you aren't a veteran, don't even try it.

When they approached the upper levels earlier, the area was devoid of activity. Clueless, they began wandering the premises where they came across locked doors and tight walkways. Reading the map from the back of his mind, Nate eventually came upon a deserted isle where he last recalled to be the room of his beloved Aunt Amelié. He tried to open the door but it was dead sealed. Knocking roused no responses either. Given the first-class disappointment seen from the boy's face, Dante was about to jut his sword through the wooden door when they heard the mumbles of a man speaking from a distance.

That led them here, trailing the source of the sound.

"Any idea where we might be heading for, kiddo?"

Nate ran a quick check over the floor plan mentally mapped in his mind, "Ceremonial Hall, the Altar of our Forefather."

"I… don't like the sound of that." The hunter slightly doubled his pace, leaving the boy behind to keep up with him via short bursts of runs. The name spelled danger in every known way across Dante's mind.

* * *

Footsteps directed for the onyx curtain shielded on the stage as soon as the cheers began to cease.

* * *

"Crap, I think he's coming." Nero muttered beneath his breath. His vision had restored full clarity, even his strength had significantly returned though it was still not enough to break the chains binding. He tried to struggle free from the bonds, but the shackles refused to budge. The ex-knight almost wanted to cuss aloud in fits of his juvenile temper. "Shit, he's really coming. A little help?"

_Patience, mortal. You're still too young to understand the virtues of waiting._

"Well, I can't see how am I to patiently wait for my own doom now, can I? You didn't come to send me right back to where I was heading for, didn't you?"

_Quiet. Just listen to your elders and wait like I told you so._

* * *

Vladimir gripped hard on the drape, grimacing as he hesitated once more if this was the right thing to do. Would she be proud if she was here watching what he had done for her? Would this be a moment of triumph if he executes what he is about to do? Is this trade exacted justifiably? Would he finally rid off the throbbing pain pricking?

A sense of shame washed throughout his guilt.

* * *

_The cavalry has finally arrived._

* * *

Faint clashes of two chassis whispered in the desperate cries of the pack as the members standing furthest from the stage howled and disintegrated into the thin air. The rows collapsed quickly as the Council members leaped onto the stairway, observing the anomaly standing in the midst of their pack. Heaps of clothing pooled all over the floor, leaving half of the original number guarding their defenses. The element of surprise had proven its advantages and combining it with the power of devil arms, there was almost no stopping it.

The leader stepped away from the drapes and returned to his spot, watching the single hunter standing in the midst of their hall visual-counting their remains. His crazed expression warned of the agitation building, he was dying to tear the intruder into pieces.

"And here I thought you were sincerely looking for me. Where's the reception? You can't throw a party without cheap beer and pizza!" Dante sniggered audibly, occasionally spinning his guns by the trigger guard.

"The son of Sparda." Vladimir cooed as calmly as he could, fists clenching tightly in locks of fury.

A male and female leaped from their grounds as soon as they heard his name, tearing through their clothing to reveal their animalistic form, pouncing for the hunter. Dante lost the smile, tightly grabbing the handles of his babies that unloaded rounds of firepower shooting the incoming assault, sidestepping from time to time to dodge their massive attacks on him. The agile duo moved swiftly through the air with so much stealth that it was impossible to catch them with the human eye. Bullets had no impact on their speed but that was not the only trick their adversary had up his sleeves. Once the woman had him within her range, she opened her claws wide, dislodging her limbs on all fours over the hunter's location as she accelerated her drop. When she came close enough, she readied her claws, hissing while in attempts to pierce through the intruder where she was horrifyingly greeted by a wink from the elder on the ground. Before she could even register the point of his counterattack, Dante swung Rebellion from his back, scrapping the floor in his motion as he cut the woman in half from the bottom of her motherhood through to her head. The impact of his claymore broke the ground; blade penetrated the stone by the evasion he swerved during his assault. Her face froze in shades of disbelief, the arrival of death attended by her unwillingness in the seconds ticking. She felt her body falling towards the hunter without the control she once wielded. Consciousness slipping away with each breath she took. Then her split body fell apart, cascading the sides of the old man as it rapidly disintegrated before touching the floor.

Continuing the drive from behind, the male's talons purged forward as his teeth bared in disgust, using the death of his comrade to his fullest advantage. Still positioned in the finishing stance of his previous attack, he kept the Claymore stabbed into the ground where his back faced the male. Gratifying, he turned his head and smirked excitedly at the blue demon as he instantly spun around to face him, raising one hand holding Ivory to point at the demon where he aimed for his chest. By the time the male had realized his deceit, it was too late to stop his impending destiny. One pull at the trigger was all it took before the creature shattered and disappeared in the wind.

"Enough!" Vladimir's voice echoed throughout the fortress, leaving Nate quivering in the tunnel at the animosity of his tone. Suspicions immediately wandered to the possibilities of the angered man being his father, but the boy was too afraid to peer from the hidden spot Dante instructed him to stay put. He listened well.

"Hey, I was just saving myself." The hunter responded coolly, tucking his guns into his holders before retrieving the sword from the ground.

"What business do you have with us?" The leader gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing for the look of the hunter simply infuriated him. "Though I only sought after you, you have killed far too many of my kind to be ignored."

"The business runs deep. You have something that belongs to me," Dante's voice instantly turned ten notches deathly low as he washed the usual happy-go-lucky look off his face, "Return him to me."

"And if I don't?" Vladimir challenged viciously. Blood must be shed.

"I'll wipe the very existence of you and your kind out from the books of history in the Demon realm once and for all."

* * *

Nero gasped in shock hearing the bits and pieces.

_Time to move, mortal._

* * *

I hope this chapter wasn't too confusing. Each paragraph break basically groups the different conversations and situations happening concurrently in each area.


	18. Episode 18: Broken like Glass

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry.**

* * *

_It's been a long time since I was ever this productive. Getting up my other fiction for Resident Evil and then here, I sure hope this races through storms. Hope you guys enjoy this new chapter._

* * *

"_The truth is rarely pure and never simple."  
_— _Oscar Wilde_

Dance. In the heat of the coupling where white meets black, devil meets demon.

The Council watched from their grounds, there were but a dozen of them left. The outcasts had fled the scene and the loyalists had no intention to stop or kill them. Hanging faces blank as veil, they remained at standstill with hoods covering their faces, patiently waiting as the slinking of metals clashed in the room. Nate listened intently from afar, remaining threshold as promised. His heart has been racing, the anxiety far greater than his young heart could take. The echoes within the hollow walls were louder by the minute; the young hybrid could almost feel the architecture shaking as loose crumbs of debris fell off from the ceiling. Nate could only pray for Dante's safety, and let no harm befall on him.

_Round and round the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel._

Dante silently hummed with his lips tightly drawn, noticing that this was going to be the eighth time they ran around the hall. He was having fun, the kind of challenge he hadn't had since… well since. He watched the raven-haired demon chased after him, claws permuted the air into lumps of explosive energy that were enough to break walls or scathed them. He hopped across the air, the ancient seal boosting a foothold as he flipped onto the opposite wall sideways, running diagonally upwards while thrusting the power of his pistols back at this adversary. Guy really doesn't know when to quit, does he?

"No use running, son of Sparda." Vladimir spat, throwing another column of energy towards the red-clad hunter.

"Yeah yeah, I get that a lot."

Infuriated, the leader leaped from the side of his wall, diving through the air as he predicted the distance Dante would cover all in due time. He grinned to his supposed intelligence which to his utter dismay, backfired when the hunter shot Rebellion out, covering too much area that he had to change his course. He turned his back against the wall behind him, limbs stretched out as the talons scratched across the brick wall suspending him. Rebellion propelled back as Vladimir watched the tenacious weapon plunged itself deep into the wall, following suit a cocky demon landing on it, holding all of his weight as its owner stood firmly on its narrow width. Dante crossed his arms watching the leader glaring at him, nostrils flaring from the adrenaline pumping. Smirking, he dipped the handle of the claymore, cracking its hold from the wall behind as he burst upwards aerially with the weapon flying forward. Arms thrown forward, he grabbed the sword once his weight pulled low enough, then a magical step, charged straight for the lone wolf.

Proven unwilling to back down, Vladimir welcomed Dante's assault when he launched from the wall. He brought his talons forward, golden orbs filled with every vibe of hate he harbored for the hunter. He was the one who did all this. He was the one who killed her.

Dante swung the sword in explicit detail, cutting through the winds gathering around the leader when suddenly, he noticed a member of the Council amassing a heap of energy in his palm. Instinctively, he used his free hand to draw Ebony from his holder and pointed sideways at the interrupting demon. He then pulled the trigger, at no point of hesitation, shooting through his arm with precision. The Council member howled in pain, hand clasping over dark blood spilled from the wound as he staggered from his stationary position. With both feet planting firmly on the ground, Dante cocked an eye upwards at the injured vientrose, proudly flashing self-satisfaction outwards. He then put his weight against Rebellion which swiftly plunged into the ground, watching the mass of black robe forced upwards due to the sheer force of gravity tearing against the descending body. The leader didn't seem pleased. Steps slowly striding forward to the center of the room. Dante thought he could do the same either.

"You better learn to watch your people." The hunter scoffed, highlighting that his assault was strictly defense-triggered.

"Indeed. This is after all, between you and me, isn't it?" Vladimir cooed, the code of conduct in cognition with the others.

"Vladimir, you will no longer slay another of our kind for your selfish needs." One of the members announced, shedding the hood from her head while sternly glaring at her fellow man. "This Council has no more patience to tolerate your insolence. You have been leading us on a vengeful past, insinuating the younger seeds to feed on the humans as luxuriously as they could which has never been practiced. This is about the colony, the survival of the race. If you cannot see our goals, then you are no longer fit to lead us. We will strip you of the _medalla_ and your every right to be part of this colony."

The leader bit the lower of his lip, soaking the contents spoken. He is so near to completion, to fulfillment. Nothing will stop him, not even the survival of his clan.

So with that thought dangerously lurking, he returned the stare down from above, vendetta boiling through his veins. Quietly containing the anger, he slipped the robe off his shoulders along with the significant necklace onto the ground, stepping away from the fabric of responsibility. He doesn't need the colony anymore. He doesn't need a home. Without her, there is nothing left to protect anymore.

"You done with your family drama?" The hunter hit a chin upwards, giving up his disrespectful posture as he put the gun away, growing impatient at the turn of events not that any of it mattered to him. He came with one goal and one purpose only. However with the escalation of things, it gradually became more than a matter of saving Nero now but also the fixation to complete eradication. He had always been merciful to demons that meant no harm to the human race. So long as they didn't hurt mankind, they could live as freely as they wanted to. But not this.

Not this bunch of creatures.

To be killed in quick fashion would have been mercy.

But tortured, controlled, and slowly draining life away? Dante couldn't accept the chain.

"Almost." Vladimir hissed.

"This is outrageous! You are completely out of control, Vladimir! What happened to your remarkable leadership? Stop this insanity this minute! You will be banished, cast out exiled. You've let us down, let all of us down. What about your poor sister, Amelié? How ar—" Before she could continue, a pair of talons ripped through his body, puncturing her lungs in progress. Blood coughed from her pained viscera, her hand grabbed tight on his shoulders. There was a hidden laugh from her lips, almost ironic, before her legs gave way, setting the wound deeper with her body collapsing into his.

"You're p-pathetic…" Her last mutters.

And the leader pulled his talons sideways, ripping her torso in half as the mess slowly burned into the dust. The other Council members watched him with hostility; it was impossible to heed the commands of a lunatic anymore. They backed away from him, helping the wounded member as they walked down the platform. It was as though a silent soap opera, the lead got abandoned by his people while they made their exit behind the invisible curtains. Dante studied the looks of the other creatures, making sure to hunt them down once he was done here. And there was Amelié, the other thing he studied in his mind. So the aunt Nate spoke of was his sister. But how was that fueling the hatred the raven male had for him? He was still in the period of adjusting to the changes. Beside the point, he couldn't put his fingers to one other thing.

If demons could smell Sparda off him, Nate certainly smelled nothing like this guy.

"My sincere apologies for the delay. Shall we get going then?" Vladimir leaped off the platform, landing on his wolfish appendages as he greeted the hunter. Arcing his talons, he scratched deep into the floor before pouncing toward his opponent, eyes gleaming in shiny gold as he silently vowed to put at end to this misery.

* * *

_Won't you hurry up already?_

"Why not you try walking after inhaling those drugs for god knows how long?" Nero groaned, his legs wobbled along the stone stairs down. Once the passiflora dissipated, the voice in his head channeled enough energy to his bringer to break the shackle. His body still felt limp but at least it sufficed supporting his weight. Furthermore, that was the least of concerns right now for the major issue at hand would be to map their way out of this maze while trying to find his weapons. Nero remembered being stripped off his weapons ever since he awoke in the cell. How the hell is he going to find something he doesn't even know where he has lost it?

The area opened up to more corridors and Nero knew he was so goddamn lost. He surveyed the arena quickly, stepped left to the nearest passageway looking down the aisle. Everything is so repetitive in this place. The sequence irritated the young hunter as he planted a foot onto the wall, not that the structure would budge under his weak assault. Although he was not one who likes to be cluelessly led around, having no sense of direction was pissing him as much as the prior did.

_Did you hear that?_

His inner voice broke the silence within and clued his attention elsewhere. Straining the canals of his ears, he heard a distant clatter of noises, softly out of reach but spontaneous in rhythm. Nero nodded, the habit unchanged by the interception of a secondary correspondent, and proceeded towards the source of the sound. As he approached, the clatter apparently wasn't any ordinary chatter; it was the familiar whisper of blades and metals, the slinks of battle growing on his skin.

_We have to get there right now. _

"What? We're late for a ball or something?"

_Something there belongs to me. Well, technically yours too._

Nero decided it would be best not to ask any further otherwise he might deem really annoying asking every single thing… though he had really been meaning to ask. The voice quieted down, leaving him to deal with the silence reality only had to offer now. Hope somehow infiltrated along the lines if he might see Dante at the end of the path but fear told hope that it could be a hoard of the vientos ready to chew him down. Then having this two fighting it out, paranoia rode in like death on a stick giving him the worst possibility of a scenario ever—Dante watching him eaten up by the lynxes without an ounce of emotion displayed. That ran a shiver down his spine, the expressionless void hanging on the elder hunter's face flashed across his mind once again. Nero felt his body trembling unwillingly, as opposed to his urge to fight the fear down. Cold ran through his body, so much so that his toes shrunk in pale white, he wondered how badly could his face be now?

_You're spending too much time thinking about the unnecessary again._

"I'm sorry?" Nero asked aloud, the sound of the arena gaining in volume after the distance covered.

_You. Dante. Everything between you two. I'm not deaf, you do realize it don't you?_

The young hunter kept his mouth shut, his mind even tighter.

_I… know you two have had a tryst._

Nero couldn't bear to think.

_However it is no longer my place to intervene for I no longer exist in this realm… in this picture._

Boy is he wrong about that. Nero was so goddamn sure. He had proof. "He still only thinks… of you."

_This is where you are wrong and on the other hand, the exact reason why I have always told him 'might controls everything.' _

They were almost at the end of the path. Nero could feel his heart thumping wildly. This is the moment of truth. Would his hope emerge victorious amongst fear and paranoia? He felt lightheaded in the windowless architecture. The candlelight flickering dimmed the clarity, the sound of silence losing to his heartbeat. Nero clasped the pieces of his robe tightly to him, taking deep breaths calming his mind down. Battle clashes swept through the narrow corridor he trotted in. An air of strife danced in the wind rushed past him.

* * *

Rounds after rounds of sparring, neither party was letting up. With one hand tightly fisting the loose chain from the ceiling and the other around the handle of Rebellion, Dante fought against gravity as he hung himself upside down from the top of the room, pushing against the chain he gripped in the adjacent angle so his lower half of the body was forced upwards to maintain his straightened posture. It wasn't the most pleasant position to be in but not one that Dante wouldn't give to boast around a little. His eyes tilted upwards, facing the ground which he gave due note to his enemy's approach. Vladimir slapped his limbs on the ground, splitting the surface as he darted upwards, accounting for desperate measures in his attacks. The lynx had suffered visible bloodstains seen on his skin, dried cuts and old scabs bruised from collisions into walls or floor. As for the elder hunter, apart from some dust and dirt plastering on his face, he was good as new. That was however, giving and taking from the sharp intakes heard from his overrun. Devil or not, he was still part human.

Dante charged towards the vientrose, spiraling in quick motion that rendered him almost invisible to the eye to successfully fish a few more wounds out of Vladimir's arms and legs. Exhaustion coursed through the lynx's body as he tumbled across the floor after submitting to the grief the fresh wounds impaled. Rolling, his back crashed straight into a wall before it ended with a loud thud. Panting, he pushed his body up from the floor after which he leaned against the wall, watching the tip of the claymore lined up to his throat. The hunter stared down at him, face nonchalant. He dropped his eyes to the floor, resigning to his inevitable defeat. While his breaths began to regulate on its own, he flipped the back of his palm to the floor, redeeming that state of rest he stole.

Just as he thought the lynx had finally given up his play, a flash of golden shone across Dante's eyes and he immediately hopped back. A palm pressed to his torso and he felt blood seeping through his flesh, searing pain enough to illicit a cackle from the elder's face. Curvy lips tightly drawn together brandishing a challenging smile like no other through the surprise. Though imbued with natural regeneration abilities, he realized the flesh was not healing in the process. Blood continued flowing freely from the wound, soaking leather in wine red. Upon accessing the situation, Vladimir snickered aloud before he peeled himself from the wall in sightless speed to rip damages to the sides of the hunter's torso. Yet that was not without a price to pay either. Due to the increase in speed and lack in strength to control his velocity, the leader crashed into the other side of the wall as well. Dante dropped one knee to the floor, right hand clasping the blood spilling from the wound torn. If the regeneration wasn't going to start any time soon, he knew he might as well bleed to death before Trish or Lady even found him. Only times like these reminded him that sometimes it did suck to be part human.

Eying the Sparda son's back in complete exposure before him, Vladimir raced for the finishing move. As soon as he pounced from the floor, he stretched a talon out taking aim for that delicious silhouette that would soon lie limp on the floor, motionlessly.

But that was exactly what Dante had planned too.

Using vulnerability as bait. Dante waited all along.

Once he heard the move, he spun his body around whilst preparing the toss, the flaps of his jacket spinning a cycle of red before Vladimir. When it finally cleared the leader's vision, the preparation was complete.

And when Vladimir decided to pull out of course, it was already too late.

He felt his body pulled aback, a stronger force than his own pushing him back to where he came from. He withheld a yelp, the sheer force colliding into the end of the hall where it stopped right there. His body jerked from the impact before collapsing back against the stony texture. Vladimir reached for the source of the burn his body was currently experiencing, his strength entirely ripped out of his system.

The second time Dante knelt before him, he was watching his own sword impaling through the lynx's chest in cold blood. It stuck him up against the wall behind, unwilling to budge or move. No doubt his enemy underestimated him, though the excessive blood lost was beginning to work its magic.

"What…are…you waiting…for…? Kill me." Vladimir panted, popping blue veins surfacing all over his forehead.

Dante lost the grin, not interested to listen to the other man's plea, "Where is he?"

The grin instead resurfaced on the leader's face, "Why does…it matter…so much…?"

* * *

"…so much…?"

Nero approached a few steps before the edge where he heard words softly echoing upwards to his corridor. He pried closer to listen, making sure not to giving away his present location.

_We need to get down there._

"Wait, somebody's talking." Nero learnt to respond through his mind, a simple recital of what he would have said with his mouth with his mind instead. It felt like silent narrating, with the exception of a hallucinating voice responding to you.

"… mine."

Bothered by the fact that he could still barely make out what the conversation was saying, Nero leaned his back against the wall as he turned his body sideways to sidestepped towards the edge of it. One carry of strong wind would easily topple him over in his weakened state.

"… bother…to protect what is… not yours…?" Words gradually became clearer and louder as Nero made the final step as near as he could.

_We are wasting time. Spare me your curiosity and let us carry on._

"Wait, just… just give me a moment," Nero's voice surprisingly soft, pleaded for just another minute more or so. He swore the word 'mine' he heard sounded familiarly to someone he already know whom.

"I don't care what he chooses in the end but I'm here right now and I fully intend to take Nero with me no matter the odds."

_Oh cut the waterworks, won't you? I understand that must have had your juvenile little heart racing like a doe running through the woods now but if we don't hurry, you can forget about that touching reunion you yearn for._

"Oh shut up, won't you…" The half shaking voice didn't help his plight any way.

* * *

It had been more than a brief time of quietness Nate had endured and it was frankly driving him crazy. Thoughts of Dante and his father thrashing it all out in the hall before all simmered into nothingness. He could not help but to worry about it. What if the one defeated on the floor was his father? If not, what would become of Dante? There was no win-win situation in his case. Nate didn't want to guess the odds.

So braving his chances, he stepped out of the shadow and slowly made way for the ceremonial hall.

_Please let him be safe…_

* * *

"If you… kill me now, you can… have more time… to search for your little… boy." Vladimir repeated his stand; it was his fourth time advising the elder to put an end to his life. The physical pain had slowly subsided from activity but it was still sitting around. Any movement would trigger it all back in action.

After detaining the silence for the longest time, Dante fulfilled his promise, "I've made a promise to someone."

"To… keep me… alive…? Well, I can't say… that must have been…one… stupid fellow…" The leader chaffed, agonized by his sorry state.

"Which I have to say, he is." Dante agreed, he really wanted to leave him be for now and let Nate cleaned up the mess on his own but something tells him otherwise. This creature still owed him an explanation, that fuel accelerating his hate. "Now let me ask you, where is this hate you have for me coming from? It's definitely no average Sparda hate."

This time it was Vladimir's turn to keep his lips sealed. He did not think the question would come back to him, not that he intended to answer it either. Why would the elder have any clue to what he had done? She mattered nothing to him. Their roots mattered nothing to him. Him cutting up their bonds, putting an end to one half of the life they had and breaking up their relationship meant nothing to him.

"Well?"

He bared his teeth, growling in a low buzz. There was no way he was going to give him an answer.

"If you're not going to tell me, you can jolly well listen then."

He wished he could just shut it.

"It's all about this Amelié, isn't it?" Vladimir kept his cool.

"This whole big hoo-ha about wanting me dead is all because of this woman, isn't it?" He was not going to fall for Dante's prep talk.

"I must have done something to this woman, haven't I?" He tried containing this one, but there were still visible signs of him gritting his teeth.

"I've killed a dozen of your kind as of late," Dante's voice absolutely neutral, "but there's one female I remembered from a train I boarded towards Fortuna."

That hit a weak spot. Vladimir glared upwards at Dante—the hunter knew he was on the right track though nothing else was said.

"She was powerful, the first of your kind I have encountered. To your dismay she could have finished me off given my… carelessness I would say, but Nero came and we put her down instead."

He certainly did not hear about the Nero part. Was Nero involved in the act as well? The tracker only saw Dante concluding the finishing blow. He didn't report about Nero's existence. Vladimir cussed inwardly, rage forming all over his face. How could such an important piece of information had been left out? He could have killed Nero there and then when he had the chance to before. He was blindly going for one half of the target when he already had the other in his hand. And right now, he wasted time trying to take Dante down while the other was still in one full piece up in the preparation room.

The tracker was Scars. He would have to deal with that later, if he gets a chance to.

"But what caught my attention to her is…" the hunter paused for a moment, assembling up the loose pieces to support his deduction, "the scent she wears."

Commenting on that, Vladimir had no idea where the hunter was heading for.

"There's no doubt your hatred for me is fueled by her. I killed her. It makes sense. However your council members—you know the ones that abandoned you—don't seem to agree with what you are doing either. Last I heard it also has something to do with the name Amelié."

The leader was rendered speechless. The hunter had been right so far.

"And although I know you have banished some kid of yours down your prison, my 'inquisitive' demonic sense tells me that that kid isn't yours, much as opposed to what everyone thinks. To second guess in fact, he smells nothing like you. At all."

This was so not going according to his plans. Vladimir's face rained pale for a second.

"Oh yeah, demon scenting doesn't come exclusively yours." Dante smirked, "So while in fact_ olor del demonio_ is directly passed on in the family line, the kid's scent was surprisingly similar to hers instead of yours. Which could only mean that," he had to pause for that dramatic effect, "you're not his biological father, which in turn also means that, she is very likely the mother instead. My question, curiously however is, why do you pretend to be his father?"

"…w-what… …?" A small voice whispered from the corner of the room. Nate stood still staring at the two people as though he had seen a ghost. Worse yet, words that he wished he never had to hear in his entire life.


	19. Episode 19: If only Promises and Lies

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry.**

* * *

_A little abstract in the first half portion but I thought, what better way to bring memories back with the haze. There are a few repetitive phrases used in this chapter, I am well aware of it. But as the title of the chapter goes, I'm grilling the pain. Scrap two drafts for the ending prior to this, I know it may not be the best outcome I can offer, it is one that will steer closest to the plot I have in mind. _

_If there's anything you might be unsure of, feel free to ask me._

* * *

"_Please, my dear. Be careful of yourself. I don't want you to cover yourself in bruises and come wailing to me."_

"_I won't fall! You'll protect me from any danger, won't you?"_

"_I can if I know it's happening. Danger inflicted on your own is not something I can predict, precious. Now come along, the sun is setting, we should get back inside." _

"_Okay Vlady! Carry me!"_

"_You're old enough to walk on your own. Don't be spoilt. And no calling Vlady in front of the others."_

_The little girl pouted and threw her tantrum around just like one. The male with her watched her as she stomped the floor, sulked and pounded her little hands in the air. While she might look adorable behaving like so, he believed going against her will would lead them nowhere with the nightfall coming in. Nonchalantly, he got down to one knee and faced his back to her, giving her one chance to hop on the sedan._

"_You win, princess. Come along now."_

_Her little chuckles were all it was worth for._

* * *

"_Vlady?"_

"_Hmm?" His purr was soft and featherlike, but only to her._

"_There's no one in this world I love more than you, you know right?" _

_He nodded in silence. A smile crept up his face warmly and tenderly._

"_I wouldn't want to spend my time with anyone other than you, you know right?"_

_He hymned in acknowledgment. _

"_Can you promise me that we will be together forever and ever and ever?" _

_Her puppy eyes reflected mirth in them as she watched him getting off the book he had been reading, looking back at her with those same mirrors._

"_I promise."_

* * *

"_I told you. Stay away from the human." His voice menacing, stern as it wanted to present._

"_He's none of your business, Vlad. You have no right to interfere with my affairs." _

"_You know there can be no bonding between demons and humans. Don't be foolish."_

"_That's not up to you to decide. Sparda gave up his demon throne for the human he loved! There's nothing you can do to stop us." Her words vicious, forceful like she wanted them to throw him off. _

"_Do you think he would feel the same for you once he knows you're a demon?! Humans, they're all the same. They fear us. They resent us. They'll stake us." _

_She slapped her palms onto the wooden table they built together when they were young, heart cold for the sentiments that came along with it._

"_You cannot stop me, Vlad. We love each other. We will survive all odds."_

_Love broke his heart that very night. _

* * *

_Betrayal came in her demise. He was right._

_How could she have been so blind?_

* * *

"_Stake her on the fire! She's a witch, a demon! We cannot let this creature roam free in our world! This is a world for humans, not demons!"_

_His chanting continued to ring in her ear. The one she loved, dragging her to the pile of dried leaves and twigs. She was shaking._

_Not out of fear. Not out of death. And certainly not out of regret._

_Love killed her that night._

* * *

"_You filthy creatures. Now die."_

_His voice woke her up. She looked to the full moon over the chapel._

_He came. _

_She felt weak and tired, the piece of an ironic smile ghosting over her face. She didn't want to think anymore. She just wanted to go home and forget all the love they had._

_Love was a lie._

"_Come with me, Amelié. We can start afresh somewhere else if you desire. So long as you take my hand."_

_She took his hand._

_Thousands bled that night. The town wiped clean, blood painted the rivers. The remains of the betrayed lover staked on the very cross he bounded her in, his throat slit, his wrists cut, his skin burnt to char before the rain washed the very existence of him away._

_He smiled on the journey home. She was once in his arms again._

* * *

_But his ghost never left. It continued to plague her._

_The seed in her womb grew each day. She noticed how her stomach had extended to her horror. _

_She broke every mirror in the new underground palace they had built. She refused to see anyone except him. She only trusted him._

"_W-what… what do I do Vlad…" Her voice broke his heart. Where had his little princess go?_

_Who was this tramp who had slept with another man?_

"_G-get rid of it…! Get rid of it for me Vlad! I don't want this child, this cursed child growing inside me! Kill me Vlad! Do whatever you can to kill it please! Oh god please Vlad…"_

_She crumbled to her knees, hair unkempt scattered all around her. Her whimpers could set the dark alleys hollow and pleading, whispery and ghastly. _

"_GET RID OF IT VLAD!" _

_Her lungs almost burst when she screamed. She started pounding her stomach._

_Cruelly. Brutally. Hatefully._

_He stopped her just in time, grabbed her hands away from the self-mutilation before she could extend her claws. He pulled her into his arms, wrapping them around her so tightly that she almost stopped breathing. _

_But she needed it. She didn't want to be abandoned anymore._

"_Hush… we'll do something about it. I promise."_

_He promised yet again. _

* * *

_Months later, she conceived. A baby boy, eyes as golden as she had. Brown hair and thin lips were his. She hissed._

"_Get this monster away from me!"_

_She was beyond hysterical, the sight of the infant made her killer instincts boil._

_In the crib the infant stayed still. He was quiet, shy and… fearless. Fearless of her maddening screams, fearless of her threatening looks._

_He took the infant in his hands, cradling him like he was his._

_And he would be. His._

"_VLAD!" She yelled from her room again. He gave instructions to one subordinate with a scar on his face, dismissing him away as he took the infant with him. _

"_Yes, Amelié?" He was experienced with her insanity by then._

"_You… you said you would dispose of him once his birth! D-do something!" Trepidation seared in her voice. _

"_I promised I would and I have already done so." _

_Cleverly, refusing to join her madness, he lied to keep his promise._

* * *

"_Never ever let her leave this palace ever again."_

_His words were the law. The pack heeded them like the utmost truth they sought to protect. _

* * *

_Years passed._

_She was reborn like a brand new child again._

_The past forgotten, the lies buried. Her mind erased the pain she lived through. _

_She was finally breathing again._

"_Vlad, should we make a new cabinet for your books?" Her voice all rosy and loving in his ears once more. _

_There was his little princess._

"_Sure, although I think you need a new closet more than I do." _

* * *

_She liked to explore. The underground palace she never had a chance to in the asylum she spent the past few years. Everyday she would find something new._

_Today was no different._

_A hidden cell. A passageway that was invisible to the eye._

_The gate was old and easily broken. She stepped in and observed the serenity. Dust, mold, and dirt._

_Then she saw. _

_In the midst of a locked cell. A pair of glistening golden orbs looking back at her. _

"_Hey there!" Her voice too cheerful, plainly too excited in her defense._

_He was silent. Eyes still watching._

"_Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you."_

_The wheel of fortune turned to her forgotten irony. _

"_I'm Amelié. You are?" She slipped her hand through the bar, expecting the handshake in return to show her friendliness. _

_He didn't speak for long, the smile slowly disappearing from her face. _

_Then finally he grabbed it, his tiny hand in her palm as she held it gently. The light from the corner revealed a small part of his face. Sunken cheekbones. _

"_They don't feed you?" Her concern was genuine._

"…_t-they… they do…" The first time she heard his voice, she thought it was lovely. _

* * *

_Their meetings increased rapidly. She found a new hobby in the palace._

_Time spent with him was wonderful. He felt like the sibling she never had._

_But something told her she couldn't tell any of this to Vlad. _

_Something felt very wrong._

_Even though she wanted so badly to find out._

* * *

"_I've heard you've been going to the hidden cell below."_

_She shouldn't be this surprised when he found out she had been doing so behind his back. But she was._

"_Erm I…"_

"_No matter," he ended the conversation quickly, seemingly to be avoiding it in fact._

"_W-who… who's the boy?"_

_He bit his tongue. Did she really want to know the truth?_

"_He…" Her eyes hoping. She appeared wanting to make up for the lost years that she had missed out during her whiteout. To know more about the brother she remembered she loved._

_He couldn't. _

"_I had an ex-wife. She killed herself finding out I wasn't human." So he lied._

_He was becoming more and more eloquent with this game. _

_She stopped questioning; she knew she didn't have the right to ask any further._

_All she knew then was how much she had neglected him during her whiteout._

_Guilt. Flesh-eating guilt chewed her down._

* * *

_She knew he resented her. The one who betrayed him._

_Her head hurt. Like an old wound burning._

_Not from the scars around her wrists though. _

_She couldn't even recall where she had gotten them from either._

* * *

_He knew they were becoming closer, the irony of life._

_The lies were easier to accept than the truth._

_So let the lie live. _

_As long as he could._

* * *

It was coming back to him, all over again. The lies he tried to protect over the decade. The child whom he had locked up away from the cruelty of this world was now staring at him back in the eye, expecting an answer from the man whom he knew as father. The ghosts were chasing back time, pulling him into a whirlpool of the lies he had built. Starting since his birth to the biological mother who tried to kill him when he was an infant to this, the truth that he wasn't the father he thought he was. Memories of the pain once inflicted, the journey he had been through it.

"…w-what… …?" the child whispered, hesitating to accept to the truth he heard once before, yet wanting no more than to affirm the lies he had just listened. He trembled; looking at Dante wasn't helping him, if only he had someone else to help him. Eyes pleading, the hunter looked away from his wishful eyes, loathing this melancholic atmosphere sitting in the air. His aunt was nowhere in sight when she finally was at his arm's length to embrace for the first and longest time. He yearned for her, he needed her, but he had no chances with her.

"Didn't I tell you to stay where you were?" Dante was the first to break the stillness. He knew there was too much implication to resolve right now and he wanted no part of it. Nate didn't answer him, instead he paced over to the father he thought he knew, glaring intensely into his eyes, as though waiting for him to say anything. Just anything would do.

But Vladimir wouldn't look at him. Looking at the child reminded him of Amelié. Remembering her reminded him of the truth that she was no longer around anymore.

"…Da-dad…?" Nate was begging now, for a chance to find out the truth he thought he once knew, "You're… m-my dad… right?"

Vladimir bit his lips; was he going to lie any further than this?

"No, he's not." So Dante decided it for him. The truth was harder to absorb than the lies he could have concocted. "And it would be so much easier if the lying can just stop. Just tell the boy what he needs to know."

The leader shuffled a little, gasping at the pain plunging through him but made no attempts to ride the pain or dislodge the weapon. Instinctively, Nate felt his body moved towards him, offering a helping hand which he declined by looking away from him. What the boy felt by the disdain in his father's eyes was as though walking over a bed of broken glasses, bleeding from everywhere thought possible. The rejection enveloped him once more; was his father guilty of what Dante had just said? All he wanted to know was the truth. Like who his biological parents were, where his aunt went and who the leader was to him. Or who was he, actually?

"Y-you're… not my f-father… are you n-not?" Nate had to try again.

The leader kept his silence.

"TELL ME!" The child screamed. Vladimir could clearly hear the tears flooding out of his eyes, the choked up screeching in his voice, the desperation that killed his heart. He didn't keep the child to impress Amelié, a part of him wanted the child. He knew he did cherish the boy since the first time he saw him.

However the more he could put his feelings into it, the harder he would have to cut clean of the ties he forged. While the connection was still young and fresh, he could end this before the boy started hoping for anything else.

"NO I'M NOT! Are you satisfied now?" He, too, yelled in unison, looking tired of this game.

Nate fell to his knees. Regretful. Speechless by the choice he had made and the unwillingness to accept what was lying before him. Where was Aunt Amelié? He demanded answers, why did she lie to him? Where was she when he needed her most?

Was this an illusion? Was everyone here just a dream?

He wanted to escape from the present again. Life would have been much simpler if he had never left that cell he was born in. It would have been much easier to just stay in the darkness, watching the little lamp flicker from the pillar and waiting for his meals to come like he was some house-bred pet. Occasionally, he would have the honors to have Aunt Amelié to accompany him throughout the day, or night he couldn't tell. Others, he was contended being in the shadows alone. No one was there to bother him, no one made him forlorn. If only he had stayed in the goddamn cell.

If only Dante didn't find and free him.

If only his aunt never told him about Dante.

If only he had never known the aunt who gave him company like warmth in the deathly coldness.

His mind was working in reverse sequence right now. He started to feel the resent growing, like an unknown persona emerging from the shadows he never knew he had. All the good he had ever experienced, rebounding like a force of nature to balance between the good and the bad. Tasting anger for the first time, his face started to burn, seething red beneath his pale skin. Let it out he told himself, but he was too afraid to lose himself in the rage.

He didn't know what he would do, he didn't know what he could be capable of.

"If you're not my father…" his mind tried regaining control of himself, rationalizing the situation, "…who is?"

"Human," the melodramatic suspense was getting a little too old for Dante's taste, "your father's a human because your mother's the demon. It shouldn't be too hard to figure the rest."

As the truth continued to unfold on its own, the past crimes and sins returned stronger in force in Vladimir's mind. The agony of those thousands of cries echoed in his ear, resurging from the past that he buried in the hometown he once flourished. Blood washing the town, the torture he inflicted on the cursed human. Oh how he wished he could skin him alive and finish all of him until nothing was left, but that would defile his mouth and throat with the stink of his flesh proven unworthy of such savory demise. Then Amelié's insanity replayed in his eyes—the promises he made to her, the vows he committed to her. Her maddening screams to kill the child, to forget the abomination conceived from her womb. But the child was as innocent as he was born, flowing her blood, raised with half of her heritage that he tried to save and selfishly kept as his own to protect a secret bond.

A bond with her.

If only he hadn't lied, if only he hadn't decide to save the child that he pretended to father.

If only he hadn't let that lingering feeling he had for her to exist.

He would have banished her for the law she had broken.

None of this would have happened if he had only listened—listened to the rationality talking to him, instead of obeying the emotions controlling him.

He knew this was his final chance now. The final chance to keep the promise he lied.

No more lying.

_No more loving._

"_Amelié…"_ he muttered silently to himself, _"… …I promised." _

Dante noticed the leader whispering, cut lips trembling mouthing words that he couldn't make out of. Nate slowly got up from his knees, a distinct change in the aura he permeated as far as the hunter could sense. Then the stillness returned, the leader went back to his wounded state, motionlessly staring at the ground beneath him. When Nate finally picked himself up, he glanced back at his ex-father, reddened eyes shedding fresh tears over his tear-stained face. Was it the numbness setting in? Had the hurt been so great that he had almost lost the ability to feel now? He stood at stationary, legs shaking feebly, hesitating and withdrawing his need to speak. The hunter kept his eyes alert, much less the only thing he could do standing between two volatile beings, since he still had to find Nero when this was all over. The sooner, the better.

A hard burst then suddenly, Vladimir tore his body from the wound Dante inflicted upon him, through the blade towards Nate whom fell to his back, shivering at the murderous face the father whom he thought he had possessed.

"I SHOULD HAVE NEVER KEPT YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE! JOIN YOUR MOTHER IN THE NETHERWORLD!"

One gunshot.

Clean impact to the forehead.

Blood gushing out of the punctured skull splattered over the boy on the floor, stiffened, possibly broken as well.

His father's voice stopped, his body collapsed to the ground, rolling over the rocky surface until he collided into Nate's legs, cold and lifeless.

Trigger pulled in Dante's hand, Ivory smoking in her incandescence.

Eyes glaring, widened distastefully, the anger never left, the bloodshot veins around his eye whites could testify to it. Lifeless eyes, devoid of light, opaque with the stale taste of death looming over the leader.

He died in vain.

He died with the pain.


	20. Episode 20: Reunion

**Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Devil May Cry.**

* * *

_You have no idea how deeply sorry I am for this chapter. I stumbled into a writer's block to start the chapter and it went horrifically down the drain a couple of times before it finally felt right. And wow, I'm actually at the 20th mark of the chapters. Thanks to all those who are still following me. I've lost a few and gained a few in the process but I'm absolutely grateful for all those who stayed. Thanks for the conviction._

_Off topic, I also won't deny I did take some time to try out the new DmC which was, in my opinion, pretty cool in its own way regarding its gameplay, though most of the time I was sticking to original names me and a friend created for the brothers. I've only gone through the game once, messing up the normal and hard for a couple of missions but the battle with Mundus was much as impressive as DMC1 portrayed. But that might just be me. _

* * *

Shattered. Nate fell to his knees, eyes streaming with tears.

He watched the golden irises fade to black, the cerulean skin eroding into ashy blue as his father's hair melted. The remains of the father he knew sprawled all over the ground in a heap of black. It then swiveled in a gentle breeze and faded into dust. Nate watched the particles as they left the ground dissipating into air, his eyes riding out the tears remained in his ducts.

_This is goodbye, father. I love you._

Releasing the trigger before Dante slid Ivory to his back, he too stared at the corpse slowly turned into nothing. Slowly, he paced towards the younger halfling who had lost his voice, the crying ceased to a halt in the arena. He put a hand to his shoulder, earning a downcast look from the boy before he pulled him up from the floor. As Nate stood, he immediately dropped his body into the hunter's torso grabbing his coat tightly, burying his tearing face shedding once more. There was words unspoken, words that he had practiced all his life to say to his father.

But they just went away silently, not even the slightest remote chance to be used anymore.

Dropping his guard, Dante placed a hand around the back of the boy, allowing him to use whatever amount of time he needed to settle the feelings overwhelming him. It reminded him the lost of his parents, except he was too young to remember most of it or at least he didn't need to see them disappear before his eyes. He knew he had been cruel to the boy, mercilessly dropping his father in front of him as that but if there was only one person he could save instead of watching two go, it was his only option. The muffled whimpers in his coat weakened his hard demeanor for he knelt on one knee to the floor, face looking straight at the halfling who tried his best to wipe his tears away.

"It had to be done," the hunter whispered.

Nate shook his head, "I know you were trying to protect me."

His wounds were still bleeding. Dante made good note of his body not regenerating under the common circumstances and that his body was weakening. He needed to get out of this place and his only chance was for the boy to lead him out. It almost felt ridiculous analyzing the situation at hand, _the great son of Sparda dying of blood lost._ That wouldn't make an attractive headline either.

But the kid's sort of lamenting after this father's death right now. It would be insensitive of him if he were to tell him he had to go otherwise he would have to join his father in the netherworlds, wouldn't he?

"Look who we have here."

And there hadn't been a day greater than this moment for Dante to appreciate the voice filling the room. He grinned to himself, slowly turning around when he watched his familiar comrades stepping out from the shadows. It was about time they showed up anyways.

"Took your time."

"Not unless if we have the underground fortress mapped up ready in our hands."

Staring at the scroll, Dante slowly detached himself from the boy's embrace while his comrades walked up to him. He retrieved the map from them scrutinizing it, a timid Nate hiding behind him as one of them knelt to her knee, observing him.

"Cut it out, Trish. You're scaring the boy."

The blond demon laughed, "I didn't know you were ready to be a father."

Her companion stared at the boy once, "Is that your new pet?"

"I don't own pets, Lady. Hassle."

Both girls laughed, watching the hunter making something out of the plan. But the paper was blank as it was and he returned a look that could almost kill any average demon, wondering if they were pulling a joke on him at the worst time possible. He heard them laughed, chuckling in fact and god help them if they weren't his comrades for the longest time he would have attempted to put a bullet in their head. His breathing deepened with the prolonged stay, until blood began pooling at his feet. This time, not only Nate saw it, neither of the girls could be oblivious to it anymore.

"What happened?" Lady lifted the left flap of his red coat, noticing the wound seeping beneath the torn leather top. Blood continued flowing.

"The price to pay for victory." Dante hissed.

"We gotta get you out of here. There's some kind of spell cast in this palace I've checked, one that could reverse demonic abilities." Trish spelt one of the ancient spells to visibly show energy surrounding the fortress.

"You mean… I'd get older the longer I stay here?" and the devil hunter couldn't resist to chance a joke upon it.

Unamused, Lady gutted him in his stomach as he toppled slightly coughing, "Perhaps we should leave you here since you look perfectly fine, asshole."

Snatching the map back from Dante, Trish chanted a string of words in ancient demonic language before the paper glowed in yellow, the paper started burning imprints that portrayed the floor plan he was looking for. Nate watched in disbelief, spellbound by the magic perhaps.

Once the map had set the directions down, the blond demon lent a hand around Dante's shoulders picking the hunter up, whereas the young halfling rushed over to the other side to help him. She smiled gently at him, gave him a nod before they entered the corridor. Lady gripped the crips of her guns, leading the trio ahead looking out for any probable assaults in their way.

Though, that shouldn't have been much of a problem since they had already put down any Vientos they had encountered along their way.

"How are you doing, Dante?" Trish asked, making a left turn after they passed the second corridor.

"Alive… and kickin'." The blood trailing wasn't that convincing however.

Nate kept turning behind staring at the trail, red pouring the tiles worried him till no ends. The hunter's smile seemed to be tiring out even so, and his feet didn't feel like they were supporting anymore of his weight either. It was scary to even think about that much blood flowing out of his savior for the boy, so much so that he could only silently pray for his safety while they attempted to leave the area. Just as they had decided to move down a flight of stairs, Dante stopped Trish from advancing as he glanced back, feet stopping.

"Wait… We gotta go get the kid."

Lady hissed, "You're in no damn condition to do that. I'll get him."

"The plan was supposed to get him out before we come back in for Nero, Lady." Trish reminded, since they had the map now it would be much easier to maneuver around the premises. "And we've got baggage here."

That put Nate down, believing he was more trouble than beneficial. He looked away from the beautiful lady but hands not leaving Dante. It was all he ever wanted to do; get his savior to safety.

"He's bleeding. Get him to open space so he can start to regenerate before something goes terribly wrong." The blonde wasn't going to step down from her stand.

"I'm fine…" Dante groaned, feeling need more than ever to complete his task. He came for Nero he remembered, and he was going to stick whatever he had planned in mind. He needed to say what he didn't get to back at Fortuna. It was more than an explanation on his part and the forgiveness he sought, he wanted Nero to hear the truth.

He wanted his belief.

"We need to get Nero. Now."

"You're fucking losing it, Dante." Lady yelled, "I don't care if you think you're perfectly fine for the job but the fact is you're not. So why don't you just stay down and listen to us and let us handle it for once?"

Trish kept her silence and witnessed the trashing going on. Although Nate wanted to do something about it, the second look at the blonde beside him put his ideas away. He was baggage and indeed it was cold hard truth. And as he thought keeping his silence would be his best bet, he suddenly found the unusual warmth of a hand snaking along his shoulders where the smile of the ambiguous woman shone on him again. Friend or foe he couldn't tell, but if Dante had trusted her then she was definitely friend on their side in spite her indifference towards him.

Whereas Dante on the other hand, seemed to be having a fight with Lady on Nero's account. Both had yet to come to their consensus, and amidst their rampant screaming, soft footsteps were heard in the distance. Vientos are acute with their sense of hearing.

"I think… there's something in the distance," Nate murmured, tugging the sleeves of the hunter who paid no attention.

The echo resonated louder in the halfling's ear, hair standing on his back.

He tried tugging the sleeves harder this time, unfortunately still earning no response from the elder. The worry continued to creep up his back, and this time his shoulders began to tense severely that Trish felt the boy amiss. Staring down, she noticed the boy staring at the dark corridor ahead, her ears finally picking up tiny vibes emitting from the far end. It then grew louder in their tantrums, so much so that it became impossible to ignore.

Stern, she pulled both comrades apart who returned stares harder than baffled. Trish pointed at the shadowed walkway.

"Something's coming."

Checking her revolvers, Lady returned her weapons on the frontline staring down the dark walkway, footwork approaching them. Fingers on the trigger.

At first glimpse of light it stepped into however, she immediately loosened her guard before she even realized she did. The tip of a twin-barreled revolver surprised and settled her worries beyond comprehension. As the weapon bore into sight, the familiar gloss of white hair revealed itself before the usual clad of clothes as well. Dante felt his heart skipped, panting and barely sustaining, the face of the man he had come so far for.

The twin-barrels sank in glory upon familiarity, the walk long and tedious in its bearer's poor health and strength. There were a handful he had gunned down and no less thankful that they only appeared after recovering his line of defense. It was painful torture, the kid still weak after the hours of induction. However the mind kept him going, the voice that accompanied him in the maze. It might have been cruel and blunt but it served its purpose well to the bearer.

It brought him to Dante.

He let his hold fall to his side, frightened and at a loss by the man ahead.

The man he thought he was already to see, or ready to speak his mind to.

Until the state of his dry lips, bloodless face and disheveled demeanor warranted his attention. Under a quick observation, he noticed the hand clasped to his body beneath his coat and the stain of blood on the stone floor. A boy to his right and the infamous blonde to his left like his supporting aid, he didn't move. He didn't flinch.

Dante watched him, as he watched the hunter in return. Silence melded them.


End file.
